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“Ye great wine cellar S.” — Page 84 


When The World Was 
Y ounger 


BY 


/ 


miss{m/e. BRADDON 

AUTHOR OF 

<‘Lady Audley’s Secret,” “Aurora Floyd,” “ Dead Men’s Shoes’ 



H 


Oi^ 


H 


NEW YORK: 

R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 

9 AND I I EAST I 6th STREET 




Copyright 1897 

BY 

MISS M H. BRADDOTT 




H^hen The World Was Younger 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. A Harbor from the Storm 5 

II. Within Convent Walls 21 

III. Letters from Home 36 

IV. The Valley of the Shadow 62 

V. A Ministering Angel 80 

VI. Between London and Oxford 99 

VH. At the Top of the Fashion 126 

VHI. Superior to Fashion 143 

IX. In a Puritan House 152 

X. The Priest’s Hole 170 

XI. Lighter than Vanity 181 

XH. Lady Fareham’s Day 190 

XHI. The Sage of Sayes Court. 211 

XIV. The Milbank Ghost 225 

XV. Falcon and Dove 237 

XVI. Which was the Fiercest Fire 250 

XVH. The Motive — Murder 272 

XVIII. Revelations... 296 

XIX. Dido 306 

XX. Philaster 325 

XXI. Good-bye, London 341 

XXH. At the Manor Moat 359 

XX HI. Patient not Passionate 368 

XXIV. “Quite out of Fashion” 416 

XXV. In the Court of King’s Bench 461 

XXVI. Bringers of Sunshine 478 

XXVIL In a Dead Calm 494 




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WHEN THE WOKLD WAS YOUNGEE. 


CHAPTER I. 

A HAEBOR FROM THE STORW. 

The wind howled across the level fields, and flying 
showers of sleet rattled against the old leathern coach as 
it drove through the thickening dusk. A bitter winter, 
this year of the Royal tragedy. 

A rainy summer, and a mild, rainy autumn, had been fol- 
lowed by the hardest frost this generation had ever known. 
The Thames was frozen over, and tempestuous winds had 
shaken the ships in the Pool, and the steep gable ends and 
tall chimney-stacks on London Bridge. A never-to-be- 
forgotten winter, which had witnessed the martyrdom of 
England's king, and the exile of her chief nobility, while 
a rabble Parliament rode roughshod over a cowed people. 
Gloom and sour visages prevailed, the May-poles were down, 
the play-houses were closed, the bear-gardens were empty, 
the cock-pits were desolate ; and a saddened population, 
impoverished and depressed by the sacrifices that had been 
exacted, and the tyranny that had been exercised in the 
name of Liberty, were ground under the iron heel of Crom- 
welPs red-coats. 

A pitiless journey from London to Louvain, a journey 
pf many days and pights, prolonged by accident and dif- 

§ 


6 


When The World Was Younger. 

ficulty, spun out to uttermost tedium for those two in the : 
heavily moving old leathern coach. Who and what were j 
they, these wearied travelers, journeying together silently | 
towards a destination which promised but little of pleasure | 
or luxury by way of welcome — a destination which meant t 
severance for those two ? 1 

One was Sir John Kirkland, of the Manor Moat, Bucks, 
a notorious Malignant, a gray-bearded Cavalier, aged by I 
trouble and hard fighting ; a soldier and servant who had ' 
sacrificed himself and his fortune for the king, and who 
must needs begin the world anew now that his master was 
murdered, his own goods confiscated, the old family man- 
sion, the house in which his parents died and his children j 
were born, emptied of all its valuables, and left to the care 
of servants, and his master^s son a wanderer in a foreign 
land, with little hope of ever winning back crown and 
scepter. 

Sadness was the dominant expression of Sir John's stern, 
strongly marked countenance, as he sat staring out at the 
level landscape through the unglazed coach window, staring 
blankly across those wind-swept Flemish fields where the 
cattle were clustering in sheltered corners, a monotonous 
expanse crossed by ice-bound dykes that looked black as 
ink, save where the last rays of the setting sun touched 
their iron hue with blood-red splashes. Pollard willows 
indicated the edge of one field, gaunt poplars marked 
the boundary of another, alike leafiess and unbeautiful, 
standing darkly out against the dim gray sky. Night 
was hastening towards the travelers, narrowing and 
blotting out that level landscape, field, dyke, and leafless 
wood. 

Sir John put his head out of the coach-window, and 
looked anxiously along the straight road, peering through 
the shades of evening in the hope of seeing the crocheted 
spires and fair cupolas of Louvain \n, the distance. But 


A Harbor From The Storm. 


7 


he could see nothing save a waste of level pastures and the 
gathering darkness. Not a light anywhere^ not a sign of 
human habitation. 

Useless to gaze any longer into the impenetrable night. 
The traveler leant back into a corner of the carriage with 
folded arms, and, with a deep sigh, composed himself for 
slumber. He had slept but little for the last week. The 
passage from Harwich to Ostend in a fishing smack had 
been a perilous transit, prolonged by adverse winds. 
Sleep had been impossible on board that wretched craft ; 
and the land journey had been fraught with vexation and 
delays of all kinds — stupidity of postilions, dearth of horse- 
flesh, badness of the roads — all things that can vex and 
hinder. 

Sir John^s traveling companion, a small child in a cloak 
and hood, crept closer to him in the darkness, nestled up 
against his elbow, and pushed her little cold hand into his 
leathern glove. 

You are crying again, father,” she said, full of pity. 

You were crying last night. Do you always cry when it 
grows dark ? ” 

^Ht does not become a man to shed tears in the daylight, 
little maid,” her father answered gently. 

^Hs it for the poor king you are crying — the king those 
wicked men murdered ? ” 

Ay, Angela, for the king ; and for the queen and her 
fatherless children, still more than for the king, for he has 
crowned himself with a crown of glory, the diadem of mar- 
tyrs, and is resting from labor and sorrow, to rise victo- 
rious at the great day when his enemies and his murderers 
shall stand ashamed before him. I weep for that once so 
lovely lady — widowed, discrowned, needy, desolate — a beg- 
gar in the land where her father was a great king. A hard 
fate, Angela, father and husband both murdered.” 

^‘^Was the queen's father murdered, too?” asked the 


8 When The World Was Younger. 

silver-sweet voice out of darkness, a pretty piping note like 
the song of a bird. 

Yes, love.^^ 

Did Bradshaw murder him ? ” 

^^No, dearest, ^twas in France he was slain — in Paris ; 
stabbed to death by a madman.” 

And was the queen sorry ? ” 

^^Ay, sweetheart, she has drained the cup of sorrow. 
She was but a child when her father died. She can but 
dimly remember that dreadful day. And now she sits, 
banished and widowed, to hear of her husband^’s martyr- 
dom ; her elder sons wanderers, her young daughter a 
prisoner. ” 

Poor queen ! ” piped the small sweet voice, I am so 
sorry for her.” 

Little had she ever known but sorrow, this child of the 
Great Kebellion, born in the old Buckinghamshire manor 
house, while her father was at Falmouth with the Prince 
— born in the midst of civil war, a stormy petrel bringing 
no message of peace from those unknown skies whence she 
came, a harbinger of woe. Infant eyes love bright colors. 
This baby’s eyes looked upon a house hung with black. 
Her mother died before the child was a fortnight old. They 
had christened her Angela, Angel of Death,” said the 
father, when the news of his loss reached him, after the 
lapse of many days. His fair young wife’s coffin was in the 
family vault under the parish church of St. J ohn in the 
Vale, before he knew that he had lost her. 

There was an elder daughter. Hyacinth, seven years the 
senior, who had been sent across the Channel in the care 
of an old servant at the beginning of the troubles between 
king and Parliament. 

She had been placed in the charge of her maternal grand- 
mother, the Marquise de Montrond, who had taken ship 
fpr Calais when the court left London, leaving her royal 


A Harbor From The Storm. 


9 


mistress to weather the storm. A lady who had wealth 
and prestige in her own country, who had been a famous 
beauty when Eichelieu was in power, and who had been 
admired by that serious and sober monarch, Louis the 
Thirteenth, could scarcely be expected to put up with the 
shifts and shortcomings of an Oxford lodging-house, with 
the ever-present fear of finding herself in a town besieged 
by Lord Essex and the rebel army. 

With Madame de Montrond Hyacinth had been reared, 
partly in a mediaeval mansion, with a portcullis, and four 
squat towers, near the Chateau dArques, and partly in 
Paris, where the lady had a fine house in the Marais. The 
sisters had never looked upon each otheFs faces, Angela 
having entered upon the troubled scene after Hyacinth 
had been carried across the Channel to her grandmother. 
And now the father was racked with anxiety lest evil should 
befall that elder daughter in the war between Mazarin and 
the Parliament, which was reported to rage with increas- 
ing fury. 

Angela’s awakening reason became conscious of a 
world where all was fear and sadness. The stories she 
heard in her childhood were stories of that fierce war which 
was reaching its disastrous close while she was in her cradle. 
She was told of the happy peaceful England of old, before 
darkness and confusion gathered over the land ; before the 
hearts of the people were set against their king by a wicked 
and rebellious Parliament. 

She heard of battles lost by the king and his partisans ; 
cities besieged and taken ; a flash of victory followed by 
humiliating reverses ; the king’s party always at a dis- 
advantage ; and hence the falling away of the feeble and 
the false, the treachery of those who had seemed friends, 
the impotence of the faithful. 

Angela heard so often and so much of these things — ^from 
old Lady Kirkland, her grandmother, and from the gray^ 


10 When The World Was Younger. 

haired servants at the manor — that she grew to understand 
them with a comprehension seemingly far beyond her 
tender years ; but a child so reared is inevitably older than 
her years. This little one had never known childish pleas- 
ures or play^ childish companions or childish fancies. 

She roamed about the spacious gardens full of saddest 
thoughts, burdened with all the cares that weighed down 
that kingly head yonder ; or she stood before the pictured 
face of the monarch with clasped hands and tearful eyes, 
looking up at him with the adoring compassion of a child 
prone to hero-worship — thinking of him already as saint 
and martyr — he whose martyrdom was not yet consummated 
in blood. 

King Charles had presented his faithful servant. Sir 
John Kirkland, with a half-length replica of one of his 
Vandyke portraits, a beautiful head, with a strange inward 
look — that lookof isolation and aloofness which we who know 
his story take for a prophecy of doom — which the sculptor 
Bernini had remarked when he copied the royal head for 
marble. The picture hung in the place of honor in the 
long narrow gallery at the Manor Moat, with trophies of 
Flodden and Zutphen arranged against the blackened oak 
paneling above it. The Kirklands had been a race of 
soldiers since the days of Edward the Third. The house 
was full of warlike decorations — tattered colors, old armor, 
memorials of fighting Kirklands who had long been dust. 

There came an evil day when the rabble rout of Crom- 
welFs crop-haired soldiery burst into the manor house to 
pillage and destroy, carrying off curios and relics that 
were the gradual accumulation of a century and a half of 
peaceful occupation. 

The old dowager’s gray hairs had barely saved her from 
outrage on that bitter day. It was only her utter helpless- 
ness and afflicted condition that prevailed upon the Par- 
liamentary captain, and prevented hina from carrying out 


A Harbor From The Storm. 


II 


his design, which was to haul her off to one of those 
London prisons at that time so gorged with Eoyalist cap- 
tives that the devilish ingenuity of the Parliament had 
devised floating Jails on the Thames, where persons of 
quality and character were herded together below decks, 
to the loss of health, and even of life. 

Happily for old Lady Kirkland, she was too lame to 
walk, and her enemies had no horse or carriage in which 
to convey her ; so she was left at peace in her song’s plun- 
dered mansion, whence all that was valuable and easily 
portable was carried away by the Eoundheads. Silver 
plate and family plate had been sacrificed to the king^s 
necessities. 

The pictures, not being either portable or readily con- 
vertible into cash, had remained on the old paneled 
walls. 

Angela used to go from the king^s picture to her fathers. 
Sir John^s was a more rugged face than the StuarPs, a 
harder expression ; but the child^s heart went out to the 
image of the father she had never seen since the dawn of 
consciousness. He had made a hurried Journey to that 
quiet Buckinghamshire valley soon after her birth — had 
looked at the baby in her cradle, and then had gone down 
into the vault where his young wife was lying, and had 
stayed for more than an hour in cold and darkness alone 
with his dead. That lovely French wife had been his 
Junior by more than twenty years, and he had loved her pas- 
sionately — had loved her and left her for duty^s sake. Ko 
Kirkland had ever faltered in his fidelity to crown and 
king. This John Kirkland had sacrificed all things, and, 
alone with his beloved dead in the darkness of that narrow 
charnel house, it seemed to him that there was nothing 
left for him except to cleave to those fallen fortunes and 
patiently await the issue. 

He had fought in many battles and had escaped with a 


12 When The World Was Younger. 

few scars ; and he was carrying his daughter to Louvain, 
intending to place her in the charge of her great-aunt, 
Madame de Montrond^s half-sister, who was head of a con- 
vent in that city, a safe and pious shelter, where the child 
might be reared in her mother^s faith. 

Lady Kirkland, the only daughter of the Marquise d^ 
Montrond, one of Queen Henrietta Maria’s ladies-in-wait- 
ing, had been a papist, and, albeit Sir John had adhered 
steadfastly to the principles of the Reformed Church, he 
had promised his bride and the marquise, her mother, that 
if their nuptials were blessed with offspring, their children 
should be educated in the Roman faith, a promise difficult 
of performance in a land where a stormy tide ran high 
against Rome, and where popery was a scarlet specter that 
alarmed the ignorant and maddened the bigoted. And 
now, duly provided with a safe conduct from the regicide, 
Bradshaw, he was journeying to the city where he was to 
part with his daughter for an indefinite period. He had 
seen but little of her, and yet it seemed as hard to part 
thus as if she had prattled at his knees and nestled in his 
arms every day of her young life. 

At last across the distance, against the wind-driven 
clouds of that stormy winter sky, John Kirkland saw the 
lights of the city — not many lights or brilliant of their 
kind, but a glimmer here and there — and behind the glim- 
mer the dark bulk of masonry, roofs, steeples, watch- 
towers, bridges. 

The carriage stopped at one of the gates of the city, and 
there were questions asked and answered, and papers shown, 
but there was no obstacle to the entrance of the travelers. 
The name of the IJrsuline Convent acted like a charm, for 
Louvain was papist to the core, in those days of Span- 
ish dominion. It had been a city of refuge nearly a hun- 
dred years ago for all that was truest and bravest and 
noblest among English Roman Catholics, in the cruel days 


A Harbor From The Storm. 


13 


of Queen Elizabeth, and Englishmen had become the lead- 
ing spirits of the University there, and had attracted the 
youth of Romanist England to the sober old Flemish town, 
and before the establishment of Dr. Alienas rival seminary 
at Douai, Sir John could have found no safer haven for 
his little ewe lamb. 

The tired horses blundered heavily along the stony 
streets and crossed more than one bridge. The town 
seemed pervaded by water, a deep narrow stream like a 
canal, on which the houses looked, as if in feeble mockery 
of Venice — houses with steep crow-step gables, some of 
them richly decorated ; narrow windows, for the most part 
dark, but with here and there the yellow light of lamp or 
candle. 

The convent faced a broad open square, and had a large 
walled garden in its rear. The coach stopped in front of 
a handsome doorway, and after the travelers had been 
scrutinized and interrogated by the portress through an 
opening in the door, they were admitted into a spacious 
hall, paved with black and white marble, and adorned 
with a statue of the Virgin Mother, and thence to a par- 
lor dimly lighted by a small oil lamp, where they waited 
for about ten minutes, the little girl shivering with cold, 
before the Superior appeared. 

She was a tall woman, advanced in years, with a hand- 
some, but melancholy countenance. She greeted the Cava- 
lier as a familiar friend. 

Welcome to Flanders!^'’ she said. ^^You have fled 
from that accursed country where our Church is despised 
and persecuted 

""Nay, reverend kinswoman, I have fled but to go back 
again as fast as horses and sails can carry me. While the 
fortunes of my king are at stake, my place is in England, 
or it may be in Scotland, where there are still those who 
are ready to fight to the death in the royal cause. But I 


14 When The World Was Younger. 

have brought this little one for shelter and safe keeping, and 
tender usage, trusting in you who are of kin to her as I 
could trust no one else — and, furthermore, that she may 
be reared in the faith of her dead mother. 

“ Sweet soul ! murmured the nun. It was well for 
her to be taken from your troubled England to the king- 
dom of the saints and martyrs.'’^ 

True, reverend mother ; yet those blasphemous level- 
lers who call us ' Malignants,^ have dubbed themselves 
^ Saints.^ 

Then affairs go no better with you in England, I fear. 
Sir John ? 

Nay, madam, they go so ill that they have reached the 
lowest depth of infamy. Hell itself hath seen no spectacle 
more awful, no murder more barbarous, no horrider tri- 
umph of wickedness than the crime which was perpetrated 
this day sennight at Whitehall. 

The nun looked at him wistfully, with clasped hands, as 
one who half apprehended his meaning. 

The king ! she faltered, still a prisoner ? 

'^Ay, reverend lady, but a prisoner in paradise, where 
angels are his guards, and saints and martyrs his com- 
panions. He has regained his crown ; but it is the crown 
of martyrdom, the aureole of slaughtered saints. England, 
our little England, that was once so great under the strong 
rule of that virgin queen who made herself the arbiter of 

Christendom, and the wonder of the world 

The pious lady shivered and crossed herself at this praise 
of the heretic queen — praise that could only come from a 
heretic. 

Our blessed and peaceful England has become a den of 
thieves, given over to the ravening wolves of rebellion and 
dissent, the penniless soldiery who would bring down all 
men^s fortunes to their own level, seize all, eat and drink 
all, and trample crown and peerage in the mire. They 


A Harbor From The Storm. 15 

have slain him, reverend mother, this impious herd — they 
gave him the mockery of a trial — just as his Master, Christ, 
was mocked. They spurned and spat upon him, even as 
our Redeemer was spurned ; and then, on the Sabbath day, 
they cried aloud in their conventicles, Lord, hast Thou 
not smelt a sweet savor of blood ? ^ Ay, these murderers 
gloried in their crime, bragged of their gory hands, lifted 
them up towards heaven as a token of righteousness ! 

The Cavalier was pacing to and fro in the dimness of the 
convent parlor, with quick, agitated steps, his nostrils 
quivering, grizzled brows bent over angry eyes, his hand 
trembling with rage as it clutched his sword-hilt. 

The reverend mother drew Angela to her side, took off 
the little black silk hood, and laid her hand caressingly on 
the soft brown hair. 

Was it Cromwell’s work she asked. 

^‘^Nay, reverend mother, I doubt whether of his own 
accord Cromwell would have done this thing. He is a 

villain, and a villain — but he is a glorious villain. 

The Parliament had made their covenant with the king at 
Newport — a bargain which gave them all, and left him 
nothing — save only his broken health, gray hairs, and the 
bare name of king. He would have been but a phantom 
of authority, powerless as the royal specters dEneas met in 
the under-world. They had got all from him — all save the 
betrayal of his loyalist friends. There he budged not, but 
was firm as rock.-’^ 

'’Twas likely he remembered Strafford, and that he 
prospered no better for having fiung a faithful dog to the 
wolves,^^ said the nun. 

Remembered Strafford ? Ay, that memory has been a 
pillow of thorns through many a sleepless night. No, it 
was not Cromwell who sought the king^s blood — though it 
has been shed wdth his sanction. The Parliament had got 
all, and would have been content ; but the faction they had 


1 6 When The World Was Younger. 

created was too strong for them. The levellers sent their 
spokesman — one Pride, an ex-drayman, now colonel of 
horse — to the door of the House of Commons, who arrested 
the more faithful and moderate members, imposed himself 
and his rebel crew upon the House, and hurried on that 
violation of constitutional law, that travesty of justice, 
which compelled an anointed king to stand before the 
lowest of his subjects — the jacks-in-office of a mutinous 
commonalty — to answer for having fought in defence of his 
own inviolable rights. 

Did they dare condemn their king ? 

^^Ah, madam, they found him guilty of high treason, in 
that he had taken arms against the Parliament. They 
sentenced their royal master to death — and seven days ago 
London saw the spectacle of a judicial murder — a blameless 
king slain by the minion of an armed rabble ! 

But did the people — the English people — suffer this in 
silence ? The wisest and best of them could surely be as- 
sembled in your great city. Did the citizens of London 
stand placidly by to see this deed accomplished ? ” 

They were like sheep before the shearer. They were 
dumb. Great God ! can I ever forget that sea of white 
faces under the gray winter sky, or the universal groan 
that went up to heaven when the stroke of the axe sounded 
on the block, and men knew that the murder of their king 
was consummated ; and when that anointed head with its 
gray hairs, whitened with sorrow, mark you, not with age, 
was lifted up, bloody, terrible, and proclaimed the head of 
a traitor ? Ah, reverend mother, ten such moments will 
age a man by ten years. Was it not the most portentous 
tragedy which the earth has ever seen since He who was 
both God and Man died upon Calvary ? Other judicial 
sacrifices have been, but never of a victim as guiltless and 
as noble. Had you but seen the calm beauty of his coun- 
tenance as he turned it towards the people ! Oh, my king. 


A Harbor From The Storm. 


17 


my master, my beloved friend, when shall I see that face 
in paradise, with the blood washed from that royal brow, 
with the smile of the redeemed upon those lips ! 

He flung himself into a chair, covered his face with those 
weather-stained hands, which had broadened by much 
grasping of sword and pistol, pike and gun, and sobbed 
aloud, with a flerce passion that convulsed the strong mus- 
cular frame. Of all the king’s servants this one had been 
the most steadfast, was marked in the black book of the 
Parliament as a notorious Malignant. From the raising of 
the standard on the castle-hill at Nottingham — in the sad 
evening of a tempestuous day, with but scanty attendance 
and only evil presages — to the treaty at Newport, and the 
prison on the low Hampshire coast, this man had been his 
master’s constant companion and friend ; flghting in every 
battle, cleaving to king and prince in spite of every oppos- 
ing influence, carrying letters between father and son in 
the teeth of the enemy, humbling himself as a servant, and 
performing menial labors, in those latter days of bitterness 
and outrage, when all courtly surroundings were denied 
the fallen monarch. 

And now he mourned his martyred king more bitterly 
than he would have mourned his own brother. 

The little girl slipped from the reverend mother’s lap, 
and ran across the room to her father. 

“ Don’t cry, father ! ” she murmured, with her own eyes 
streaming. It hurts me to see you.” 

^^Nay, Angela,” he answered, clasping her to his breast. 

Forgive me that I think more of my dead king than of 
my living daughter. Poor child, thou hast seen nothing 
but sorrow since thou wert born ; a land racked by civil 
war ; Englishmen changed into devils ; a home ravaged 
and made desolate ; threatenings and curses ; thy good 
grandmother’s days shortened by sorrow and rough usage. 
Thou wert born into a house of mourning, and hast seen 
2 


1 8 When The World Was Younger. 

nothing but black since thou hadst eyes to notice the things 
around thee. Those tender ears should have heard only 
loving words. But it is over, dearest ; and thou hast found 
a haven within these walls. You will take care of her, 
will you not, madam, for the sake of the niece you loved ? ” 
She shall be the apple of my eye. No evil shall come 
near her that my care and my prayers can avert. God has 
been very gracious to our order — in all troublous times we 
have been protected. We have many pupils from the best 
families of Flanders — and some even from Paris, whence 
parents are glad to remove their children from the confu- 
sion of the time. You need fear nothing while this sweet 
child is with us ; and if in years to come she should desire 
to enter our order 

The Lord forbid, cried the Cavalier. I want her to 
be a good and pious papist, madam, like her sweet mother ; 
but never a nun. I look to her as the stalf and comfort of 
my declining years. Thou wilt not abandon thy father, 
wilt thou, little one, when thou shalt be tall and strong as 
a bulrush, and he shall be bent and gnarled with age, like 
the old medlar on the lawn at the manor ? Thou wilt be 
his rod and stalf, wilt thou not, sweetheart ? 

The child flung her arms round his neck and kissed him. 
It was her only answer, but that mute reply was a vow. 

Thou wilt stay here till England's troubles are over, 
Angela, and that base herd yonder have been trampled 
down. Thou wilt be happy here, and wilt mind thy book, 
and be obedient to those good ladies who will teach thee ; 
and some day, when our country is at peace, I will come 
back to fetch thee.'’^ 

^^Soon,"^ murmured the child, ^‘"soon, father 
God grant it may be soon, my beloved. It is hard for 
father and children to be scattered, as we are scattered ; 
thy sister Hyacinth in Paris, and thou in Flanders, and I 
in England. Yet it must needs be so for a while I 


A Harbor From The Storm. 19 

Why should not Hyacinth come to us and be reared 
with Angela ? ” asked the reverend mother. 

Hay, madam. Hyacinth is well cared for with your 
sister, Madame de Montrond. She is as dear to her mater- 
nal grandmother as this little one here was to my good 
mother, whose death last year left us a house of mourning. 
Hyacinth will doubtless inherit a considerable portion of 
Madame de Montrond^s wealth, which is not insignificant. 
She is being brought up in the precincts of the court. 

A worldly and a dangerous school for one so young, 
said the nun with a sigh. I have heard my father talk 
of what life was like at the Louvre when the Bearnais 
reigned there in the fiower of his manhood, newly master 
of Paris, flushed with hard-won victory, and but lately rec- 
onciled to the Church. 

Methinks that great cap taints court must have been 
laxer than that of Queen Anne and the cardinal. I have 
been told that the child-king is being reared as it were in a 
cloister, so strict are mother and guardian. My only fear 
for Hyacinth is the troubled state of the city, given over 
to civil warfare only less virulent than that which has deso- 
lated England. I hear that this Fronde is no drawing- 
room contest, no war of epigrams and pamphlets, but that 
men are as earnest and as bloodthirsty as they were in the 
League. I shall go from here to Paris to see my first-born 
before I make my way back to London.^' 

"" I question if you will find her in Paris, said the rev- 
erend mother. I had news from a priest in the diocese 
of the coadjutor. The queen-mother left the city secretly 
with her chosen favorites in the dead of the night on the 
sixth of this month, after having kept the festival of 
Twelfth Hight in a merry humor with her court. Even her 
waiting-women knew nothing of her plans. They went to 
Saint Germain, where they found the chateau unfurnished, 
and where all the court had to sleep upon a few loads of 


20 When The World Was Younger. 

straw. Hatred of the cardinal is growing fiercer every day, 
and Paris is in a state of siege. The princes are siding with 
Mathieu Mole and his parliament, and the provincial par- 
liaments are taking up the quarrel. God grant that it 
may not he in France as it has been with you in your unhappy 
England ; but I fear the Spanish queen and her Italian 
minister scarce know the temper of the French people. 

Alas, good friend, we have fallen upon evil days, and 
the spirit of the revolt is everywhere ; but if there is trou- 
ble at the French court, there is all the more need that I 
should make my way thither, be it at Saint Germain or in 
Paris, and so assure myself of my pretty Hyacinth^s safety. 
She was so sweet an infant when my good and faithful 
Brown carried her across the sea to Dieppe. Never shall 
I forget that sad moment of parting, when the baby arms 
were wreathed round my sweet sainPs neck ; she so soon 
to become again a mother, so brave and patient in her sor- 
row at parting with her first-born. Ah, sister, there are 
moments in this life that a man must needs remember, 
even amidst the wreck of his country.” He dashed away 
a tear or two, and then turned to his kinswoman with out- 
stretched hands and said, Good-night, dear and reverend 
mother ; good-night and good-bye. I shall sleep at the 
nearest inn, and shall be on the road again at daybreak. 
Good-bye, my souPs delight.” 

He clasped his daughter in his arms, with something of 
despair in the fervor of his embrace, telling himself, as 
the soft cheek was pressed against his own, how many 
years might pass ere he would again so clasp that tender 
form and feel those innocent kisses on his bearded lips. 
She and the elder girl were all that was left to him to love 
and comfort, and the elder sister had been taken from him 
while she was a little child. He would not have known her 
had he met her unawares ; nor had he ever felt for her 
such a pathetic love as for this guiltless death-angel, this 


Within Convent Walls. 


21 


baby whose coming had ruined his life, whose love was 
nevertheless the only drop of sweetness in his cup. 

He plucked himself from that gentle embrace, and walked 
quickly to the door. 

You will apply to me for whatever funds are needed 
for the child^s maintenance and education,^^ he said, and in 
the next moment was gone. 


CHAPTER II. 

WITHm CONVEl^T WALLS. 

Moee than ten years had come and gone since that bleak 
February evening, when Sir John Kirkland carried his 
little daughter to a place of safety, in the old city of Lou- 
vain, and in all those years the child had grown like a 
flower in a sheltered garden, where cold winds never come. 
The bud had matured into the blossom in that mild atmos- 
phere of piety and peace ; and now, in this fair springtide 
of 1660, a girlish face watched from the convent casement 
for the coming of the father whom Angela Kirkland had 
not looked upon since she was a child, and the sister she 
had never seen. 

They were to arrive to-day, father and sister, on a brief 
visit to the quiet Flemish city. Yonder in England there 
had been curious changes since the stern Protector turned 
his rugged face to the wall, and laid down that golden 
scepter with which he had ruled as with a rod of iron. 
Kingly title would he none ; yet where kings had chastized 
with whips, he had chastized with scorpions. Ireland 
could tell how the little Anger of Cromwell had been hea- 
vier than the arm of the Stuarts. She haj trembled and 


22 When The World Was Younger. 

had obeyed, and had prospered under that scorpion rule, 
and England's armaments had been the terror of every sea 
while Cromwell stood at the helm ; but now that strong 
brain and bold heart were in the dust, and it had taken 
England little more than a year to discover that Puritan- 
ism and the Kump were a mistake, and that to the core of 
her heart she was loyal to her hereditary king. 

She asked not what manner of man this hereditary ruler 
might be ; asked not whether he were wise or foolish, 
faithful or treacherous. She forgot all of tyranny and of 
double-dealing she had suffered from his forbears. She 
forgot even her terror of the scarlet specter, the grim wolf 
of Eome, in her disgust at Puritan fervor which had torn 
down down altar-rails, usurped church pulpits, destroyed 
the beauty of ancient cathedrals. Like a woman or a 
child she held out arms to the unknown, in a natural recoil 
from that iron rule which had extinguished her gayety, 
silenced her noble liturgy, made innocent pleasures and 
elegant arts things forbidden. She wanted her churches 
and her theaters, her cock-pits and taverns, and bear-gar- 
dens and May-poles back again. She wanted to be ruled 
by the law, and not by the sword ; and she longed with a ro- 
mantic longing for that young wanderer who had fled from 
her shores in a flshing-boat, disguised as a servant, with 
his life in his hand, to return in a glad procession of great 
ships dancing over summer seas, eating, drinking, gaming, 
in a coat worth scarce thirty shillings, and with empty 
pockets for his loyal subjects to make haste and fill. 

Angela had the convent parlor all to herself this fair 
spring morning. She was the favorite pupil of the nuns, 
had taken no vows, pledged herself to no noviciate, ever 
mindful of her promise to her father. She had lived as 
happily and as merrily in that abode of piety as she could 
have lived in the finest palace in Europe. There were other 
jnaidens, daughters of the French and Flemish nobility. 


Within Convent Walls. 


23 


who were taught and reared within those somber precincts, 
and with them she had played and worked and labored at 
such studies as became a young lady of quality. Like that 
fair daughter of affliction, Henrietta of England, she had 
gained in education by the troubles which had made her 
girlhood a time of seclusion. She had been first the pla}^- 
thing of those elder girls who w^ere finishing their education 
in the convent, her childishness appealing to their love and 
pity, and then after being the plaything of the nuns and 
the elder pupils, she became the favorite of her contem- 
poraries, and in a manner their queen. She was more 
thoughtful than her class-fellows, in advance of her years 
in piety and intelligence, and they, knowing her sad story 
— how she was severed from her country and kindred, her 
father a wanderer with his king, her sister bred up at a 
foreign court — had first compassionated and then admired 
her. From her twelfth year upwards her intellectual 
superiority had been recognized in the convent, alike by 
the nuns and their pupils. lier aptitude at all learning 
and her simple but profound piety had impressed every- 
body. At fourteen years of age they had christened her 

the little wonder^'’; but later, seeing that their praises 
embarrassed and even distressed her, they had desisted from 
such loving fiatteries, and were content to worship her 
with a silent adulation. 

Her father's visits to the Flemish city had been few 
and far apart, fondly though he loved his motherless 
girl. He had been a wanderer for the most part during 
those years, tossed upon troubled seas, fighting with Conde 
against Mazarin and Queen Anne, and reconciled with the 
court later when peace was made, and his friends the 
Princes were forgiven ; an exile from France of his own 
free will when Louis banished his cousin, the king of Eng- 
land, in order to truckle to the triumphant usurper. He 
had led an adventurous life, and had cared very little what 


24 When The World Was Younger. 

became of him in a topsy-turvy world. But now all things 
were changed. Eighteen months of Eichard Cromweirs 
irresolute rule had shattered the Commonwealth, and made 
Englishmen eager for a king. The country was already 
tired of him whose succession had been admitted with bland 
acquiescence, and Monk and the army were soon to become 
masters of the situation. There was hope that the General 
was rightly affected, and that the King would have his own 
again, and that such of his followers as had not compounded 
with the Parliamentary commission would get back their 
confiscated estates, and that all who had suffered in person 
or pocket for loyalty^s sake would be recompensed for their 
sacrifices. 

It was five years since Sir John^s last appearance at the 
convent, and Angela^s heart beat fast at the thought that 
he was so near. She was to see him this very day ; nay, 
perhaps this very hour. His coach might have passed the 
gate of the town already. He was bringing his elder 
daughter with him, that sister whose face she had never 
seen, save in a miniature, and who was now a great lady, 
the wife of Baron Eareham, of Chilton Abbey, Oxon, Fare- 
ham Park, in the county of Hants, and Eareham House, 
London, a nobleman whose estates had come through the 
ordeal of the Parliamentary commission with a reasonable 
fine, and to whom extra favor had been shown by the com- 
missioners, because he was known to be at heart a Repub- 
lican. In the meantime. Lady Eareham had a liberal in- 
come allowed her by the marquise, her grandmother, and 
she and her husband had been among the most splendid 
foreigners at the French Court, where the lady^s beauty 
and wit had placed her conspicuously in that galaxy of 
brilliant women who shone and sparkled about the sun of 
the European firmament — Le roi soleil, or the king,^^ 
par excellence, who took the blazing sun for his crest. 
The Fronde had been a time of pleasurable excitement to 


Within Convent Walls. 


25 


the high-spirited girl, whose mixed blood ran like quick- 
silver, and who delighted in danger and party strife, strata- 
gem, and intrigue. The story of her courage and gayety 
of heart in the siege of Paris, she being then little more 
than a child, had reached the Flemish convent long after 
j the acts recorded had been forgotten at Paris and Saint 
Germain. 

Angela’s heart beat fast at the thought of being restored 
to these dear ones, were it only for a short span. They 
were not going to carry her away from the convent ; and, 
indeed, seeing that she so loved her aunt, the good reverend 
mother, and that her heart so clove to those walls and to 
the holy exercises which filled so great a part of her life, 
her father in replying to a letter in which she had besought 
him to release her from her promise, and allow her to dedi- 
cate herself to God, had told her that although he could 
not surrender his daughter, to whom he looked for the 
comfort of his closing years, he would not urge her to leave 
the Sacre Coeur until he should feel himself old and feeble, 
and in need of her tender care. Meanwhile she might be 
a nun in all but the vows, and a dutiful niece to her kind 
aunt. Mother Anastasia, whose advanced years and failing 
health needed all consideration. 

But now, before he went back to England, whither he 
hoped to accompany the king and the princes ere the year 
was much older. Sir John Kirkland was coming to visit 
his younger daughter, bringing Lady Fareham, whose 
husband was now in attendance upon his Majesty in Hol- 
land, where there were serious negotiations on hand — nego- 
tiations which would have been full of peril to the English 
messengers two years ago, when that excellent preacher 
and holy man. Dr. Hewer, of St. Gregory, was beheaded 
for having intelligence with the king, through the Marquis 
of Ormond. 

The parlor window jutted into the square over against 


26 When The World Was Younger. 

the town hall, and Angela could see the whole length of the 
narrow street along which her father’s carriage must come. 

The tall slim figure and the fair girlish face stood out in 
full relief against the gray stone mullion, bathed in sun- 
light. The graceful form was undisguised by courtly 
apparel. The soft brown hair fell in loose ringlets, which 
were drawn back from the brow by a band of black ribbon. 
The girl’s gown was of soft gray woolen stuff, relieved by 
a cambric collar covering the shoulders, and by cambric 
elbow-sleeves. A coral and silver rosary was her only 
ornament ; but face and form needed no aid from satins or 
velvets, Venetian lace or Indian filagree. 

The sweet serious face was chiefly notable for eyes of 
darkest gray, under brows that were firmly arched and 
almost black. The hair was a dark brown, the complexion 
somewhat too pale for beauty. Indeed that low-toned 
coloring made some people blind to the fine and regular 
modeling of the high-bred face ; while there were others 
who saw no charm in a countenance which seemed too 
thoughtful for early youth, and therefore lacking in one 
of youth’s chief attractions, gladness. 

The face lighted suddenly at this moment, as four great 
gray Flanders horses came clattering along the narrow 
street and into the square, dragging a heavy painted wooden 
coach after them. The girl opened the casement and craned 
out her neck to look at the arrival. The coach stopped 
at the convent door, and a footman alighted and rang the 
convent bell, to the interested curiosity of two or three 
loungers upon the steps of the town hall over the way. 

Yes, it was her father, grayer but less sad of visage than 
at his last visit. His doublet and cloak were handsomer 
than the clothes he had worn then, though they were still 
of the same fashion, that English mode which the Cavalier 
had worn before the beginning of the troubles^ and which 
he never changed. 


Within Convent Walls. 


27 


Immediately after him there alighted a vision of beauty, 
the loveliest of ladies, in sky-blue velvet and pale gray fur, 
and with a long white feather encircling a sky-blue hat, 
and a collar of Venetian lace veiling a bosom that scintil- 
lated with jewels. 

Hyacinth ! cried Angela, in a flutter of delight. The 
porters peered at the visitors through her spy-hole, and 
being satisfied that they were the expected guests, speedily 
opened the heavy iron-clamped door. 

There was no one to interfere betv/een father and daugh- 
ter, sister and sister, in the convent parlor. Angela had 
her dear people all to herself, the Mother Superior respect- 
ing the confidences and outpourings of love, which neither 
father nor children would wish to be witnessed even by a 
kinswoman. Thus, by a rare breach of conventual disci- 
pline, Angela was allowed to receive her guests alone. 

The lay-sister opened the parlor door and ushered in the 
visitors, and Angela ran to meet her father, and fell sob- 
bing upon his breast, her face hidden against his velvet 
doublet, her arms clasping his neck. 

‘^What, mistress, hast thou so watery a welcome, now 
that the clouds have passed away, and every loyal English 
heart is joyful ? cried Sir John, in a voice that was some- 
what husky, but with a great show of gayety. 

Oh, sir, I have waited so long, so long for this day. 
Sometimes J thought it would never come, that I should 
never see my dear father again.” 

Poor child ! it would have been only my desert hadst 
thou forgotten me altogether. I might have come to you 
sooner, pretty one ; indeed, I would have come, only things 
went ill with me. I was down-hearted and hopeless of any 
good fortune in a world that seemed given over to psalm- 
singing scoundrels ; and till the tide turned I had no heart 
to come nigh you. But now fortunes are mended, the 
king^s and mine, and you have a father once again and shall 


28 


When The World Was Younger. 

have a home by and by, the house where you were born, 
and where your angel-mother made my life blessed. You 
are like her, Angela ! holding back the pale face in his 
strong hands, and gazing upon it earnestly. ""Yes, you 
favor your mother ; but your face is over sad for fifteen sum- 
mers. Look at your sister here ! Would you not say a 
sunbeam had taken womaAs shape and come dancing into 
the room ? 

Angela looked round and greeted the lady, who had stood 
aside while father and daughter met. Yes, such a face 
suggested sunlight and summer, birds, butterflies, all things 
buoyant and gladsome. A complexion of dazzling fairness, 
pearly transparent, with ever varying carnations ; eyes of 
heavenliest blue, liquid, laughing, brimming with espie- 
glerie ; a slim little nose with an upward tilt, which expressed 
a contemptuous gayety, an inquiring curiosity ; a dimpled 
chin sloping a little towards the full round throat ; the bust 
and shoulders of a Venus, the waist of a sylph, set off by 
the close-fitting velvet bodice, with its diamond and tur- 
quoise buttons ; hair of palest gold, fluffed out into curls 
that were traps for sunbeams ; hands and arms of a milky 
whiteness emerging from the large loose elbow-sleeves — a 
radiant apparition which took Angela by surprise. She 
had seen Flemish fraus in the richest attire, and among 
them there had been women as handsome as Helena For- 
man ; but this vision of a fine lady from the court of the 
"" roi soleil was a revelation. Until this moment, the girl 
had hardly known what grace and beauty meant. 

"" Come and let me hug you, my dearest Puritan,” cried 
Hyacinth, holding out her arms. "‘Why do you suffer 
your custodians to clothe you in that odious gray, which 
puts me in mind of lank-haired, psalm-singing scum, and 
all their hateful works ? I would have you sparkling in 
white satin and silver, or blushing in brocade powdered 
with forget-me-nots and rosebuds. What would Fareham 


Within Convent Walls. 


29 

say if I told him I had a Puritan in gray, woolen stuff 
for my sister. He sends you his love, dear, and bids me 
tell you there shall be always an honored place in our home 
for you, he it in England or France, in town or country. 
And why should you not fill that place at once, sister ? 
Your education is finished, and to he sure you must he 
tired of these stone walls and this sleepy town. 

No, Hyacinth, I love the convent and the friends who 
have made it my home. You and Lord Fareham are very 
kind, but I could not leave our reverend mother ; she is 
not so well or so strong as she used to he, and I think she 
likes to have me with her, because, though she loves us all, 
down to the humblest of the lay-sisters, I am of her kin, 
and seem nearest to her. I don^t want to forsake her ; 
and if it was not against my father^’s wish I should like to end 
my days in this house, and to give my thoughts to God.” 

^‘‘That is because thou knowest naught of the world 
outside, sweetheart,” protested Hyacinth. I admire 
the readiness with which folks will renounce a banquet 
they have never tasted. A single day at the Louvre or the 
Palais Eoyal would change your inclinations at once and 
forever.” 

She is too young for a court life, or a town life either,” 
said Sir John. And I have no mind to remove her from 
this safe shelter till the king shall he firm upon his throne 
and our poor country shall have settled into a stable and 
peaceable condition. But there must he no vows, Angela, 
no renunciation of kindred and home. I look to thee for 
the comfort of my old age ! ” 

^‘H)ear father, I will never disobey you. I shall re- 
member always that my first duty is to you ; and when 
you want me, you have but to summon me ; and whether 
you are at home or abroad, in wealth and honor, or in 
exile and poverty, I will go to you, and he glad and happy 
to be your daughter and your servant.” 


30 When The World Was Younger. 

I knew thou wouldst, dearest, I have never forgotten 
how the soft little arms clung about my neck, and how the 
baby -lips kissed me in this same parlor, when my heart was 
weighed down by a load of iron, and there seemed no ray 
of hope for England or me. You were my comforter 
then, and you will be my comforter in the days to come. 
Hyacinth here is of the butterfly breed. She is fair to 
look upon, and tender and loving ; but she is ever on the 
wing. And she has her husband and her children to 
cherish, and cannot be burdened with the care of a broken- 
down graybeard.” 

Broken down ! Why, you are as brave a gallant as 
the youngest Cavalier in the king^s service,^^ cried Hya- 
cinth. ^‘1 would pit my father against Montagu or Buck- 
ingham, Buckhurst or Eoscommon — against the gayest, 
the boldest of them all, on land or sea. Broken down, 
forsooth ! We will hear no such words from you, sir, for 
a score of years. And now you will want all your wits to 
take your proper place at court as sage counselor and 
friend of the new king. Sure he will need all his father’s 
friends about him to teach him statecraft — he who has led 
such a gay, good-for-nothing life as a penniless rover, with 
scarce a sound coat to his back.” 

Nay, Hyacinth, the king will have no need of us old 
Malignants. We have had our day. He has shrewd Ned 
Hyde for counselor, and in that one long head there is 
craft enough to govern a kingdom. The new court will 
be a young court, and the fashion of it will be new. We 
old fellows, who were gallant and gay enough in the forties, 
when we fought against Essex and his tawny scarves, 
would be but laughable figures at the court of a young 
man bred half in Paris and steeped in French fashions and 
French follies. No, Hyacinth, it is for you and your 
husband the new day dawns. If I get back to my old 
meads and woods and the house where I was born, I 


Within Convent Walls. 


31 


will sit quietly down in the chimney corner, and take to 
cattle breeding and a pack of harriers for the diversion of 
my declining years. And when my Angela can make up her 
mind to leave her good aunt she shall keep house for me.^^ 

I should love to be your housekeeper, dearest father. 
If it please heaven to restore my aunt to health and 
strength, I will go to you with a heart full of joy,"’"' said the 
girl, hanging caressingly upon the old Cavalier^’s shoulder. 

Hyacinth flitted about the room with a swift birdlike 
motion, looking at the sacred images and prints, the 
tableau over the mantelpiece which told, with much 
flourish of penmanship, the progress of the convent pupils 
in learning and domestic virtues. 

What a humdrum, dismal room she cried. You 
should see our convent parlors in Paris. At the Carmel- 
ites, in the Kue Saint Jacques, par exemple,” the queen- 
mother^s favorite convent, and at Chaillot, the house 
founded by Queen Henrietta — such pictures, and orna- 
ments, and embroidered hangings, and tapestries worked 
by devotees. This room of yours, sister, stinks of poverty, 
as your Flemish streets stink of garlic and cabbage. 
Faugh, I know not which is worse ! ” 

Having thus delivered herself of her disgust, she darted 
upon her younger sister, laid her hands on to the girPs 
shoulders, and contemplated her with mock seriousness. 

What a precocious young saint thou art with no more 
interest in the world outside this naked parlor, than if 
thou wert yonder image of the Holy Mother. Hot a 
question of my husband, or my children, or of the last 
fashion in hood and mantle, or of the new laced gloves, or 
the French king^s latest divinity. 

should like, dear, to see your children. Hyacinth,^" 
answered her sister. 

Ah ! they are the most enchanting creatures, the girl 
a perpetual sunbeam, ethereal, elflsh, a creature of life 


32 When The World Was Younger. 

and movement, and with a loquacity that never tires ; the 
boy a lump of honey, fat, sleek, lazily beautiful. I am 
never tired of admiring them, when I have time to see them. 
Papillon — an old friend of mine, has surnamed her Papillon 
because she is never still — was five years old on the 19th 
of March. We were at Saint Germain on her birthday. 
You should have seen the toys and trinkets and sweet- 
meats which the court showered upon her — the king and 
queen, monsieur, mademoiselle, the princess Henrietta, 
her godmother — everybody had a gift for the daughter of 
La folle Baronne Pareham. Yes, they are lovely creatures, 
Angela ; and I am miserable to think that it may be half 
a year before I see their sweet faces again. 

Why so long, sister ? 

Because they are at the Chateau Montrond, my grand- 
mother's place near Dieppe, and because Pareham and I 
are going hence to Breda to meet the king, our own King 
Charles, and help lead him home in triumph. In London 
the mob are shouting, roaring, singing for their king ; and 
Montagues fieet lies in the Downs waiting but the signal 
from Parliament to cross to Holland. He who left his 
country in a scurvy fishing-boat will go back to England 
in a mighty man-of-war, the Kaseby — mark you, the 
ISTaseby — christened by that usurper, in insolent remem- 
brance of a rebel victory ; but Charles will doubtless change 
that hated name. He must not be put in mind of a fight 
where rebels had the better of loyal gentlemen. He will 
sail home over those dancing seas with a fieet of great 
white-winged ships circling round him like a flight of 
silvery doves. Oh, what a turn of fortune's wheel ! I am 
wild with rapture at the thought of it ! ” 

^•You love England better than Prance, though you 
must be almost a stranger there,^^ said Angela, wonderingly 
looking at a miniature which her sister wore in a bracelet 
that clasped a plump wrist. 


Within Convent Walls. 


33 


love, ^tis in Paris I am an insignificant alien, 
though they are ever so kind and flattering to me. At 
Saint Germain I was only Madame de Montrond^s grand- 
daughter — the wife of a somewhat morose gentleman who 
was cleverer at winning battles than at gaining hearts. At 
Whitehall I shall be Lady Pareham, and shall enjoy my 
full consequence as the wife of an English nobleman of 
ancient lineage and fine estate, for, I am happy to tell 
you, his lordship^s property suffered less than most people^s 
in the rebellion, and anything his father lost when he 
fought for the good cause will be given back to the son 
now the good cause is triumphant, with additions, perhaps 
— an earPs coronet instead of a baroWs beggarly pearls. I 
should like Papillon to be Lady Henrietta. 

And you will send for your children, doubtless, when 
you are sure all is safe in England ? said Angela, con- 
templating the portrait. ^^This is Papillon, I know. 
What a sweet, kind, mischievous face.^^ 

Mischievous as a Barbary ape — kind and sweet as the 
west wind,^^ said Sir John. 

And your boy ? asked Angela, reclasping the bracelet 
on the fair, round arm, having looked her fill at the 
mutinous eyes, the brown, crispy, curling hair, dainty- 
pointed chin, and dimpled cheeks. Have you his picture 
too ? ” 

Not his ; but I wear his fathers likeness somewhere 
betwixt buckram and ElandePs lace,"^ answered Hyacinth, 
gayly, pulling a locket from amidst the splendor of her 
corsage. I call it next my heart ; but there is a stout 
fortification of whalebone between heart and picture. You 
have gloated enough on the daughters impertinent visage, 
look now at the father, whom she resembles in little, as a 
kitten resembles a tiger. 

She handed her sister an oval locket, bordered with 
diamonds and held by a slender Indian chain ; and Angela 

3 


34 When The World Was Younger. 

saw the face of the brother-in-law, whose kindness and 
hospitality had been so freely promised to her. 

She explored the countenance long and earnestly. 

Well, do you think I chose him for his beauty ? " asked 
Hyacinth. ^^You have devoured every lineament with 
that serious gaze of yours, as if you were trying to read 
the spirit behind that mask of flesh. Do you think him 
handsome ? 

Angela faltered ; but was unskilled in flattery and could 
not reply with a compliment. 

No, sister ; surely none have ever called this counte- 
nance handsome ; but it is a face to set one thinking.” 

^^Ay, child, and he who owns the face is a man to set 
one thinking. He has made me think many a time when 
I would have traveled a day^’s journey to escape the thoughts 
he forced upon me. He was not made to bask in the sun- 
shine of life. He is a stormy petrel. It was for his ugli- 
ness I chose him. Those dark stern features, that im- 
perious mouth, and a brow like the Olympian Jove. He 
scared me into loving him. I sheltered myself upon his 
breast from the thunder of his brow, the lightning of his 
eye.” 

He has a look of his cousin Wentworth,” said Sir 
John. I never see him, but I think of that murdered 
man — my father^s friend and mine — whom I have never 
ceased to mourn.” 

Yet their kin is of the most distant,” said Hyacinth. 
“ It is strange that there should be any likeness.” 

Faces appear and reappear in families,” answered her 
father. You may observe that curiously recurring like- 
ness in any picture gallery, if the family portraits cover a 
century or two. Louis has little in common with his 
grandfather ; hut two hundred years hence there may be a 
prince of the royal house whose every feature shall recall 
Henry the Great.” 


Within Convent Walls. 


35 


The portrait was returned to its hiding-place under per- 
fumed lace and cobweb lawn, and the reverend mother 
entered the parlor, ready for conversation, and eager to 
hear the history of the last six weeks, of the collapse of 
that military despotism, which had convulsed England and 
dominated Europe, and which was melting into thin air as 
ghosts dissolve at cock-crow. Of the secret negotations 
between Monk and Grenville, now known to everybody, 
of the king^s gracious amnesty and promise of universal 
pardon, save for some score or so of conspicuous villains, 
whose hands were dyed with the royal martyr^s blood. 

She was full of questioning ; and, above all, eager to 
know whether it was true that King Charles was at heart 
as stanch a papist as his brother the Duke of York was 
believed to be, though even the Duke lacked the courage 
to bear witness to the true faith. 

Two lay sisters brought in a repast of cakes and syrups 
and light wines, such delicate and dainty food as the pious 
ladies of the convent were especially skilled in preparing, 
and which they deemed all-sufficient for the entertainment 
of company ; even when one of their guests was a rugged 
soldier like Sir John Kirkland. When the light collation 
had been tasted and praised, the coach came to the door 
again, and swallowed up the beautiful lady and the red 
Cavalier, who vanished from Angela^s sight in a cloud of 
dust, waving hands from the coach window. 


3 ^ 


When The World Was Younger. 


CHAPTEK III. 

LETTEKS FROM HOME. 

The quiet days went by, and grew into years, and time 
was only marked by the gradual failure of the reverend 
mothers health ; so gradual, so gentle a decay, that it was 
only when looking back on St. Sylvesters Eve that her 
great-niece became aware how much of strength and ac- 
tivity had been lost since the Superior last knelt in her 
place near the altar, listening to the solemn music of the 
midnight mass, Avhicli sanctified the passing of the year. 
This year the reverend mother was led to her seat between 
two nuns, who sustained her feeble limbs. This year the 
meek knees, which had worn the marble floor in long 
hours of prayer during eighty pious years, could no lon- 
ger bend. The meek head was bowed, the bloodless hands 
were lifted up in supplication, but the fingers were wasted 
and stiffened, and there was pain in every movement of 
the joints. 

There was no actual malady, only the slow death in 
life called old age. All the patient needed was rest and ten- 
der nursing. This last her great-niece supplied, together 
with the gentlest companionship. ISTo highly-trained 
nurse, the product of modern science, could have been more 
efficient than the instinct of affection had made Angela. 
And then the patienPs temper was so amiable, her mind, 
undimmed after eighty-three years of life, was a mirror 
of God. She thought of her fellow-creatures with a divine 
charity ; she worshiped her Creator with an implicit faith. 
For her in many a waking vision the heavens opened and 


Letters From Home. 


37 

the spirits of departed saints descended from their abode 
in bliss to hold converse with her. Eighty years of her 
life had been given to religious exercises and charitable 
deeds. Motherless before she could speak, she had en- 
tered the convent as a pupil at three years of age, and 
had taken the veil at seventeen. Her father had married 
a great heiress, whose only child, a daughter, was allowed 
to absorb all the small stock of parental affection ; and 
there was no one to dispute Anastasia^s desire for the 
cloister. All she knew of the world outside those walls 
was from hearsay. A rare visit from her lovely half-sister, 
the Marquise de Montrond, had astonished her with the 
sight of a distinguished Parisienne and left her wonder- 
ing. She had never read a secular book. She knew not the 
meaning of the word pleasure, save in the mild amuse- 
ments permitted to the convent children — children 
always till they left the convent as young women — on the 
evening of a saint’s day. A stately dance of curtseyings 
and weaving arms, a little childish play, dramatizing some 
incident in the lives of the saints. So she had lived her 
eighty years of obedience and quiet usefulness, learning 
and teaching, serving and governing. She had lived 
through the Thirty Years’ War, through the devastations 
of Wallenstein, the cruelties of Bavarian Tilly, the judi- 
cial murder of Egmont and Horn. She had heard of vil- 
lages burnt, populations put to the sword, women and 
children killed by thousands. She had conversed with 
those who remembered the League ; she had seen the nuns 
weeping for Edward Campion’s cruel fate ; she had heard 
masses sung for the soul of murdered Mary Stuart. She 
had heard of Raleigh’s visions of conquest and of gold, 
setting his prison-blanched face towards the west, in the 
afternoon of life, to encounter bereavement, treachery, 
sickening failure, and to go back to his native England to 
expiate the dreams of genius with the blood of a martyr. 


38 When The World Was Younger. 

And through all the changes and chances of that troublous 
century she had lived apart, full of pity and wonder, in a 
charmed circle of piety and love. 

Her room, in these peaceful stages of the closing scene, 
was a haven of rest. Angela loved the seclusion of the 
paneled chamber, with its heavily mullioned casement 
facing the sonthwest, and the polished oak floor, on which 
the red and gold of the sunset were mirrored, as on the 
dark stillness of a moorland tarn. For her every object 
in the room had its interest or its charm. The associa- 
tions of childhood enfolded them all. The large, ivory 
crucifix, yellow with age, dim with the kisses of adoring 
lips ; theDelf statuettes of Mary and Joseph, flaming with 
gaudy color ; the figures of the Saviour and St. John the 
Baptist, delicately carved out of boxwood, in a group rep- 
resenting the baptism in the river Jordan, the holy dove 
trembling on a wire over the divine head ; the books, the 
pictures, the rosaries. At all these she had gazed rever- 
ently when all things were new, and the convent passages 
places of shuddering, and the service of the mass an unin- 
telligible mystery. She had grown up within those solemn 
walls ; and now, seeing her kinswoman^s life gently ebbing 
away, she could but wonder what she would have to do in 
this world when another took the Superior’s place, and 
the tie that bound her to Louvain would be broken. 

The lady who would in all probability succeed Mother 
Anastasia as Superior was a clever, domineering woman, 
whom Angela loved least of all the nuns — a widow of good 
birth and fortune, and a thorough Fleming ; stolid, big- 
oted, prejudiced, and taking much credit to herself for the 
wealth she had brought to the convent, apt to talk of the 
class-room and the chapel her money had helped to build 
and restore as ‘^‘^my class-room,” or ^‘^my chapel.” 

Ho ; Angela had no desire to remain in the convent 
when the dear kinswoman should have vanished from the 


Letters From Home. 


39 


Bcene her presence sanctified. The house would be haunted 
with sorrowful memories. It would be time for her to 
claim that home which her father had talked of sharing 
with her in his old age. She could just faintly remember 
the house in which she was born — the moat, the fish-pond, 
the thick walls of yew, the peacocks and lions cut in box, 
of which the gardener who clipped them was so proud. 
Faintly, faintly the picture of the old house came back to 
her ; built of gray stone, and stained with moss, grave and 
substantial, occupying three sides of a quadrangle, a house 
of many windows, few of which were intended to open, a 
house of dark passages, like these in the convent, and 
flights of shallow steps, and curious turns and twistings 
here and there. There were living birds that sunned their 
spreading tails and stalked in slow stateliness on the turf 
terraces, as well as those peacocks clipped out of yew. The 
house lay in the valley of the Thames, shut round and 
sheltered by hills and coppices, where there was an abun- 
dance of game. Angela had seen the low, cavern-like larder 
hung with pheasants and hares. 

Her heart yearned towards the old house, so distinctly 
pictured by memory, though perchance with some dif- 
ferences from the actual scene. The mansion would seem 
smaller to her, doubtless, beholding it with the eyes of 
womanhood, than childish memory made it. But to live 
there with her father, to wait upon him and tend him, to 
have Hyacinth^s children there, playing in the gardens as 
she had played, would be as happy a life as her fancy could 
compass. 

All that she knew of the march of events during those 
tranquil years in the convent came to her in letters from 
her sister, who was a vivacious letter- writer, and who prided 
herself upon her epistolary talent — as indeed upon her 
general superiority, from a literary standpoint, to the 
women of her day. 


40 When The World Was Younger. 

It was a pleasure to Lady Fareham in some rare interval 
of solitude — when the weather was too severe for her to 
venture outside the hall door, even in her comfortable 
coach, and when by some curious concatenation she 
happened to be without visitors — to open her portfolio and 
prattle with her pen to her sister, as she would have prattled 
with her tongue to the visitors whom snow or tempest kept 
away. Her letters written from London were apt to be 
rare and brief, Angela noted ; but from his lordship^s 
mansion near Oxford, or at the Grange between Fareham 
and Winchester — once the property of the brothers of St. 
Cross — she always sent a budget. Few of these lengthy 
epistles contained anything bearing upon Angela^s own 
existence — except the oft-repeated entreaty that she would 
make haste and join them — or even the flippant suggestion 
that Mother Anastasia should make haste and die. They 
were of the nature of news-letters ; but the news was 
tinctured by the very feminine medium through which it 
came, and there was a flavor of egotism in almost every 
page. Lady Fareham wrote as only a very pretty woman, 
courted, flattered, and indulged by everybody about her, 
ever since she could remember, could be forgiven for 
writing. People had petted her and worshiped her with 
such uniform subservience, that she had grown to thirty 
years of age without knowing that she was selflsh, accepting 
homage and submission as a law of the universe, as kings 
and princes do. 

Only in one of those letters was there that which might 
be called a momentous fact, but which Angela took as 
easily as if it had been a mere detail, to be dismissed from 
her thoughts when the letter had been laid aside. 

It was a letter with a black seal, announcing the death 
of the Marquise de Montrond, who had expired of an 
apoplexy at her house in the Marais, after a supper party 
at which mademoiselle, Madame de Longueville, Madame 


Letters From Home. 


41 


de Montansier, the Duchesse de Bouillon, Lauzrin, St. 
Evremond, cheery little Godeau, Bishop of Vence, and 
half a dozen other famous wits, had been present, a 
supper bristling with royal personages. Death had come 
with appalling suddenness while the lamps of the festival 
were burning, and the cards were still upon the tables, 
and the last carriage had but just rolled under the porte 
cochere. 

^Ht is the manner of death she would have chosen,” 
wrote Hyacinth. “She never missed confession on the 
first Sunday of the month ; and she was so generous to 
the Church and to the poor that her director declared she 
would have been too saintly for earth but for the human 
weakness of liking fine company. And now, dearest, I 
have to tell you how she has disposed of her fortune ; and 
I hope if you should think she has not used you generously, 
you will do me the justice to believe that I have neither 
courted her for her wealth nor influenced her to my dear 
sisteFs disadvantage. You will consider, tres chere, that 
I was with her from my eighth year until the other day 
when Fareham brought me to England. She loved me 
passionately in my childhood, and has often told me since 
that she never felt towards me as a grandmother, but as if 
she had been actually my mother, being indeed still a 
young woman when she adopted me, and by strangers 
always mistaken for my mother. She was handsome to the 
last, and young in mind and in habits long after youth had 
left her. I was said to be the image of what she was when 
she rivaled Madame de Chevreuse in the affections of the 
late king. You must consider, sweetheart, that he was 
the most moral of men, and that with him love meant a 
passion as free from sensual taint as the preferences of a 
sylph. I think my good grandmother loved me all the 
better for this fancied resemblance. She would arrange 
her jewels about my hair and bosom, as she had worn them 


42 When The World Was Younger. 

when Buckingham came wooing for his master ; and then 
she would bid her page hold a mirror before me and tell me 
to look at the face of which Queen Anne had been jealous, 
and for which Cinq Mars had run mad. And then she 
would shed a, tear or two over the years and the charms 
that were gone, till I brought the cards and cheered her 
spirits with her favorite game of Primero. 

She had her fits of temper and little tantrums some- 
times, Ange, and it needed some patience to restrain one^s 
tongue from insolence ; but I am happy to remember that 
I ever bore her in profound respect, and that I never made 
her seriously angry hut once — which was when I, being 
then almost a child, went out into the streets of Paris with 
Henri de Malfort and a wild party, masked, to hear 
Beaufort address the populace in the market place, and 
when I was so unlucky as to lose the emerald cross given 
her by the great cardinal, for whom I believe she had 
a sneaking kindness. Why else should she have so 
hated his eminence's very particular friend, Madame de 
Comhalet ? 

But to return to that which concerns my dear sister. 
Eegarding me as her own daughter, the Marquise has 
lavished her bounties upon me almost to the exclusion of 
my own sweet Angela. In a word, dearest, she leaves you 
a modest income of four hundred louis — or about three 
hundred pounds sterling — the rental of two farms in Nor- 
mandy ; and all the rest of her fortune she bequeaths to 
me, and Papillon after me, including her house in the 
Marais — sadly out of fashion now that everybody of 
consequence is moving to the Place Eoyale — and her 
chateau near Dieppe, besides all her jewels, many of which 
I have had in my possession ever since my marriage. My 
sweet sister shall take her choice of a carcanet among 
those old-fashioned trinkets. And now, dearest, if you are 
left with a pittance that will but serve to pay for your 


Letters From Home. 


43 

gloves and fans at the Middle Exchange, and perhaps to 
buy you an Indian night-gown in the course of the year — 
for your court petticoats and mantuas will cost three times 
as much — you have but to remember that my purse is to he 
yours, and my home yours, and that Eareham and I do hut 
wait to ‘welcome you either to Eareham House, in the 
Strand, or to Chilton Abbey, near Oxford. The Grange 
near Eareham I never intend to re-enter if I can help it. 
The place is a warren of rats, which the servants take for 
ghosts. If you love a river you will love our houses, for the 
Thames runs near them both ; indeed, when in London, 
we almost think ourselves in Venice, save that we have a 
spacious garden, which I am told few of the Venetians can 
command, their city being built upon an assemblage of 
miniscule islets, linked together by innumerable bridges.'’^ 

Angela smiled as she looked down at her black gown — 
the week-day uniform of the convent school, exchanged 
for a somewhat superior gray stuff on Sundays and holi- 
days — smiled at the notion of spending the rent of two 
farms upon her toilet. And how much more ridiculous 
seemed the assertion that to appear at King Charleses court 
she must spend thrice as much. Yet she could hut re- 
member that Hyacinth had described trains and petticoats 
so loaded with jeweled embroidery that it was a penance 
to wear them — laces worth hundreds of pounds — plumed 
hats that cost as much as a yeaFs maintenance in the con- 
vent.. 

Mother Anastasia expressed considerable displeasure at 
Madame de Montrond^’s disposal of her wealth. 

This is what it is to live in a court, and to care only 
for earthly things ! she said. All sense of justice is 
lost in that world of vanity and self-love. You are as near 
akin to the marquise as your sister ; and yet, because she 
was familiar with the one and not with the other — and be- 
cause her vain, foolish soul took pleasure in a beauty that 


44 When The World Was Younger. 

recalled her own perishable charms, she leaves one sister a 
great fortune and the other a pittance ! 

Dear aunt, I am more than content ” 

But I am not content for you, Angela. Had the estate 
been divided equally, you might have taken the veil, and 
succeeded to my place in this beloved house, which needs 
the accession of wealth to maintain it in usefulness and 
dignity.'’^ 

Angela would not wound her aunt’s feelings by one word 
of disparagement of the house in which she had been 
reared ; but, looking along the dim avenue of the future, 
she yearned for some wider horizon than the sky, barred 
with tall poplars, that rose high above the garden wall, 
that formed the limit of her daily walks. Her rambles, 
her recreations, had all been confined within that space 
of seven or eight acres, and she thought sometimes with 
a sudden longing of those hills and valleys of fertile 
Buckinghamshire, which lay so far back in the dawn of 
her mind, and were yet so distinctly pictured in her 
memory. 

And London — that wonderful city of which her sister 
wrote in such glowing words ! the long range of palaces 
beside the swift-fiowing river, wider than the Seine where 
it reflects the gloomy bulk of the Louvre and the Temple ! 
Were it only once in her life, she would like to see London 
— the King, the two Queens, Whitehall, and Somerset 
House. She would like to see all the splendor and pomp 
of court and city, and then to taste the placid retirement 
of the house in the valley, and to be her father^s house- 
keeper and companion. 

Another letter from Hyacinth announced the death of 
Mazarin. 

The cardinal is no more. He died in the day of suc- 
cess, having got the better of all his enemies. A violent 
access of gout was followed by an affection of the chest 


Letters From Home. 


45 


which proved fatal. His sick-room was crowded with 
courtiers and sycophants, and he was selling sinecures up 
to the day of his death. Fareham says his death-bed was 
like a money-changeFs counter. He was passionately fond 
of hocca, the Italian game which he brought into fashion, 
and which ruined half the young men about the court. 
The counterpane was scattered with money and playing 
cards, which were only brushed aside to make room for the 
last sacraments. My Lord Clarendon declares that his 
spirits never recovered from the shock of his Majesty^s 
restoration, which falsified all his calculations. He might 
have made his favorite niece Queen of England : but his 
Italian caution restrained him, and the beautiful Hortense 
has to put up with a new-made duke — a title bought with 
her uncle’s money — to whom the Cardinal afiianced her on 
his death-bed. He was a remarkable man, and so profound 
a dissembler that his pretended opposition to King Louis’ 
marriage with his niece Olympe Mancini would have de- 
ceived the shrewdest observer, had we not all known that 
he ardently desired the union, and that it was only his 
fear of Queen Anne’s anger which prevented it. Her 
Spanish pride was in arms at the notion, and she would 
not have stopped short at revolution to prevent or to re- 
venge such an alliance. 

This was perhaps the only occasion upon w’hich she 
ever seriously opposed Mazarin. With him expires all her 
political power. She is now as much a cypher as in the 
time of the late king, when France had only one master, 
the great cardinal. He who is just dead, Fareham says, 
was but a little Eichelieu, and he recalls how, when the 
great cardinal died, people scarce dared tell one another of 
his death, so profound was the awe in which he was held. 
He left the king a nullity, and the queen all powerful. 
She was young and beautiful then, you see ; her husband 
was marked for death ; her son Avas an infant. All France 


46 When The World Was Younger. 

was hers — a kingdom of courtiers and flatterers. And now 
she is old and ailing ; and Mazarin being gone, the young 
king will submit to no minister who claims to be anything 
better than a clerk or a secretary. Colbert he must tolerate 
— for Colbert means prosperity — but Colbert will have to 
obey. My friend, the Duchess of Longueville, who is now 
living in strict retirement, writes me the most exquisite 
letters ; and from her I hear all that happens in that coun- 
try, which I sometimes fancy is more my own than the 
duller climate where my lot is now cast. Fifteen years at 
the French court have made me in heart and mind almost 
a Frenchwoman ; nor can I fail to be influenced by my 
maternal ancestry. I And it ditficult sometimes to remem- 
ber my English, when conversing with the clodhoppers of 
Oxfordshire, who have no French, yet insist, for flnery^’s 
sake, upon larding their rustic English with French words 
introduced ^ k tort et a traverse.^ 

All that is most agreeable in our court is imitated from 
the Palais Eoyal and the Louvre. 

^Whitehall is but the shadow of a shadow, says Fare- 
ham, in one of his philosophy flts, preaching upon the 
changes he has seen in Paris and London. And, indeed, 
it is a change to have lived through two revolutions, one 
so awful in its Anal catastrophe that it dwarfs the other, 
yet both terrible ; for I, who was a witness of the suffer- 
ings of princes and princesses during the two wars of the 
Fronde, am not inclined to think lightly of a civil war 
which cost France some of the flower of her nobility, and 
made her greatest hero a prisoner and an exile for seven 
years of his life. 

But oh, my dear, it was a romantic time ! and I look 
back and am proud to have lived in it. I was but twelve 
years old at the siege of Paris ; but I was in Madame de 
Longueville's room, at the Hotel de Ville, while the flght- 
ing was going on, and the officers, in their steel cuirasses. 


Letters From Home. 


47 


coming in from the thick of the strife. Such a confusion 
of fine ladies and armed men — breastplates and blue scarves 
— fiddles squeaking in the salon, trumpets sounding in the 
square below. 


In a letter of later date Lady Fareham expatiated upon 
the folly of her sisteFs spiritual guides. 

I am desolated, ma mie, by the absurd restriction which 
forbids you to profit by my cadeau de nbel.^^ I thought, 
when 1 sent you all the volumes of La Scuderi^s enchanting 
romance, I had laid up for you a year of enjoyment, and 
that, touched by the baguette of that exquisite fancy, your 
convent walls would fall down like those of Jericho, at 
the sound of the trumpet, and you would be transported 
in imagination to the finest society in the world — the com- 
pany of Cyrus and Mandane — under which Oriental dis- 
guise you are shown every feature of mind and person in 
Conde and his heroic sister, my esteemed friend, the 
Duchesse de Longueville. As I was one of the first to 
appreciate Mademoiselle Scuderi^s genius, and to detect, 
behind the name of the brother, the tender sentiments and 
delicate refinement of the sister’s chaster pen, so I believe 
I was the first to call the duchess Mandane,’ a sobriquet 
which soon became general among her intimates. 

You are not to read ^ Le Grand Cyrus,’ your aunt tells 
you, because it is a romance ! That is to say, you are for- 
bidden to peruse the most faithful history of your own 
time, and to familiarize yourself with the persons and minds 
of great people whom you may never be so fortunate as to 
meet in the flesh. I myself, dearest Ange, have had the 
felicity to live among these princely persons, to revel in 
the conversations of the Hotel de Eambouillet — not, per- 
haps, as our grandmother would have told you, in its most 
glorious period — but at least while it was still the focus of 


48 When The World Was Younger. 

all that is choicest in letters and in art. Did we not hear 
M. Poquelin read his first comedy, before it was repre- 
sented by MonsieuPs company in the beautiful theater at 
the Palais Eoyal, built by Kichelien, when it was the 
Palais Cardinal ? Not read Le Grand Cyrus/ and on 
the score of morality ? Why, this delightful book was 
written by one of the most moral women in Paris — one 
of the chastest — against whose reputation no word of 
slander has ever been breathed ! It must indeed be con- 
fessed that Sappho is of an ugliness which would protect 
her even were she not guarded by the aegis of genius. She 
is one of those fortunate unfortunates, who can walk 
through the furnace of a court unscathed, and leave a rep- 
utation for modesty in a profligate age. 

^ I fear, dear child, that these narrow-minded restric- 
tions of your convent will leave you of a surpassing igno- 
rance, which may cover you with confusion when you find 
yourself in fine company. There are accomplishments 
without which youth is no more admired than age and gray 
hairs ; and to sparkle with wit or astonish with learning is 
a necessity for a woman of quality. It is only by the 
advantages of education that we can show ourselves super- 
ior to such a hussy as Albemarle’s gutter-bred duchess, 
who was the faithless wife of a sailor or barber — I forget 
which — and who hangs like a millstone upon the general’s 
neck now that he has climbed to the zenith. To have per- 
fect Italian and some Spanish is as needful as to have fine 
eyes and complexion nowadays. And to dance admirably 
is a gift indispensable to a lady. Alas ! I fear that those 
little feet of yours — I hope they are small — have never 
been taught to move in a coranto or a contre-danse, and 
that you will have to learn the alphabet of the Terpsicho- 
rean art at an age when most women are finished perform- 
ers. The great Conde, while winning sieges and battles 
that surpassed the feats of Greeks and Eomans, contrived 


Letters From Home. 


40 


to make himself the finest dancer of his day, and won more 
admiration in high-bred circles by his graceful movements, 
which every one could understand and admire, than by 
prodigies of valor at Dunkirk or ISTordlingen, which we 
only read of in the ‘ Gazette.'’ 

The above was one of Lady Fareham^s most serious 
letters. Her pen was exercised, for the most part, in a 
lighter vein. She wrote of the court beauties, the court 
jests — practical jokes some of them, which our finer minds 
of to-day would consider in execrable taste — such jests as 
we read of in GrammonFs memoirs, which generally aimed 
at making an ugly woman ridiculous, or an injured husband 
the sport and victim of wicked lover and heartless wife. 
No sense of the fitness of things constrained her ladyship 
from communicating these court scandals to her guileless 
sister. Did they not comprise the only news worth any- 
body’s attention, and relate to the only class of people who 
had any tangible existence for Lady Fareham ? There 
were millions of human beings, no doubts, living and acting 
and suffering on the surface of the earth outside the stel- 
lary circles of which Louis and Charles were the suns ; hut 
there was no interstellar medium of sympathy to convey 
the idea of those exterior populations to Hyacinth’s mind. 
She knew of thje populace, French or English, as of some- 
thing which was occasionally given to become dangerous 
and revolutionary, which sometimes starved and sometimes 
died of the plague, and which was always unpleasing to 
the educated eye. 

Masquerades, plays, races at Newmarket, dances, duels, 
losses at cards — Lady Fareham touched every subject, and 
expatiated on all ; but she had usually more to tell of the 
country she had left than of that in which she was living. 

Here everything is on such a small scale, si mesquin ! ” 
she wrote. "" Whitehall covers a large area, but it is only 
a fine banqueting hall and a labyrinth of lodgings, with- 

4 


50 When The World Was Younger* 

out suite or stateliness. The pictures in the late king^s 
cabinet are said to be the finest in the world, but they are 
a kind of pieces for which I care very little — Flemish and 
Dutch chiefly — with a series of cartoons by Rafiaelle, which 
connoisseurs affect to admire, but which, did they belong 
to me, I would gladly exchange for a set of Mortlake 
tapestries. 

His majesty here builds ships, while the King of 
France builds palaces. I am told Louis is spending millions 
on the new palace at Versailles, an ungrateful site — no 
water, no noble prospect as at Saint Germain, no population. 
The king likes the spot all the better, Mandane tells me, 
because he has to create his own landscajoe, to conjure 
lakes and cataracts out of dry ground. The buildings 
have been but two years in progress, and it must be long 
before these colossal foundations are crowned with the 
edifice which the king and his architect, Massart, have 
planned. Colbert is furious at this squandering of vast 
sums on a provincial palace while the Louvre, the birthplace 
and home of dynasties, remains unfinished. 

^^The king’s reason for disliking Saint Germain — a 
palace his mother has always loved — has in it something 
of the childish and fantastic, if, as my dear duchess declares, 
he hates the place only because he can see the towers of 
St. Denis from the terrace, and is thus hourly reminded 
of death and the grave. I can hardly believe that a being 
of such superior intelligence could be governed by any 
such horror of man’s inevitable end. I would far sooner 
attribute the vast expenditure at Versailles to the common 
love of monarchs and great men for building houses too 
large for their necessities. Indeed, it was but yesterday 
that.Fareham took me to see the palace — for I can call it 
by no meaner name — that Lord Clarendon is building 
for himself in the open country at the top of St. James’ 
Street. It promises to be the finest house in town, and. 


Letters From Home. 


51 


although not covering so much ground as Whiteliall, is 
judged far superior to that inchoate mass in its fine 
proportions and the perfect symmetry of its saloons and 
galleries. There is a garden a-making, projected by Mr. 
Evelyn, a great authority on trees and gardens. A crowd 
of fine company had assembled to see the newly finished 
hall and dining parlor, among them a fussy person, who 
came in attendance upon my Lord Sandwich, and who 
was more voluble than became his quality as a clerk in the 
Navy Office. He was periwigged and dressed as fine as 
his master, and, on my being civil to him, talked much of 
himself and of divers taverns in the city where the dinners 
were either vastly good or vastly ill. I told him that as I 
never dined at a tavern the subject was altogether beyond 
the scope of my intelligence, at which Sandwich and Fare- 
ham laughed, and my pertinacious gentleman blushed as 
red as the heels of his shoes. I am told the creature has a 
pretty taste in music, and is the son of a tailor, but professes 
a genteel ancestry, and occasionally pushes into the best 
company. 

Shall I describe to you one of my latest conquests, 
sweetheart ? ^Tis a boy — an actual beardless boy of eight- 
een summers ; but such a bqy ! So beautiful, so insolent, 
with an impudence that can confront Lord Clarendon 
himself, the gravest of noblemen, who, with the sole ex- 
ception of my Lord Southampton, is the one man who has 
never crossed Mrs. Palmer^s threshold, or bowed his neck 
under that splendid fury^s yoke. My admirer thinks no 
more of smoking these grave nobles, men of a former 
generation, who learnt their manners at the court of a 
serious and august king, than I do of teasing my falcon. 
He laughs at them, jokes with them in Greek or in Latin, 
has a ready answer and a witty quip for every turn of the 
discourse ; will even interrupt his majesty in one of those 
anecdotes of his Scottish martyrdom which he tells so well 


52 


When The World Was Younger. 


and tells so often. Lucifer himself could not be more ar- 
rogant or more audacious than this bewitching boy-lover 
of mine, who writes verses in English or Latin as easy as I 
can toss a shuttlecock. I doubt the greater number of his 
verses are scarce proper reading for you or me, Angela ; 
for I see the men gather round him in corners as he mur- 
murs his latest madrigal to a chosen half-dozen or so ; and 
I guess by their subdued tittering that the lines are not 
over modest ; while by the sidelong glances the listeners 
cast round, now at my Lady Castlemaine, and anon at 
some other goddess in the royal pantheon, I have a shrewd 
notion as to what alabaster breast my witty lover^s shafts 
are aimed at. 

This youthful devotee of mine is the son of a certain 
Lord 'VYilmot who fought on the late king^s side in the 
troubles. This creature went to the university of Oxford 
at twelve years old — as it were straight from his go-cart to 
college, and was master of arts at fourteen. He has made 
the grand tour, and pretends to have seen so much of this 
life that he has found out the worthlessness of it. Even 
while he woos me with a most romantic ardor, he aifects 
to have outgrown the capacity to love. 

Think not, dearest, that I outstep the bounds of 
matronly modesty by this airy philandering with my young 
Lord Eochester, or that my serious Fareham is ever of- 
fended at our pretty trifling. He laughs at the lad as 
I do, invites him to our table, and is amused by his mon- 
keyish tricks. A woman of quality must have followers ; 
and a pert, fantastical boy is the safest of lovers. Slander 
itself could scarce accuse Lady Fareham, at thirty years of 
age, of an unworthy tenderness for a jackanapes of seven- 
teen ; for, indeed, I believe his eighteenth birthday is still 
in the womb of time. I would with all my heart thou wert 
here to share our innocent diversions : and I know not 
which of all my playthings thou wouldst esteem highest, 


Letters From Home. 


53 


the falcon, my darling spaniels, made np of soft silken 
curls and intelligent brown eyes, or Eochester. Nay, let 
me not forget the children, Papillon and Cupid, who are 
truly very pretty creatures, though consummate plagues. 
The girl, Papillon, has a tongue which Wilmot says is the 
nearest approach to perpetual motion that he has yet dis- 
covered ; and the boy, who was but seven last birthday, 
is full of mischief, in which my admirer counsels and abets 
him. 

Oh, this London, sweetheart, and this court ! How 
wide those violet eyes would open couldst thou but look 
suddenly in upon us after supper at Basset, or in the park, 
or at the play-house, when the orange girls are smoking 
the pretty fellows in the pit, and my Lady Castlemaine is 
leaning half out of her box to talk to the King in his. I 
thought I had seen enough of festivals and dances, stage- 
plays and courtly diversions beyond sea ; but the court 
entertainments at Paris or Saint Germain dilfered as much 
from the festivities of Whitehall as a cathedral service from 
a dance in a booth at Bartholomew Fair. His Majesty of 
France never forgets that that he is a king. His Majesty 
of England only remembers his kingship when he wants 
a new subsidy, or to get a Bill hurried through the Lower 
House. Louis at four-and-twenty was serious enough for 
fifty, Charles at thirty-four has the careless humor of a 
school-boy. He is royal in nothing except his extravagance, 
which has squandered more millions than I dare mention 
since he landed at Dover. 

I am growing almost as sober as my solemn spouse, 
who will ever be railing at the king and the duke, and 
even more bitterly at the favorite, his Grace of Bucking- 
ham, who is assuredly one of the most agreeable men in 
London. I asked Fareham only yesterday why he went to 
court, if his majesty^’s company is thus distasteful to him. 
^It is not to his company I object, but to his principles,^ 


54 


When The World Was Younger, 


he answered, in that earnest fashion of his which takes the 
lightest questions aux grand serieux. I see in him a man 
who, with natural parts far above the average, makes him- 
self the jest of meaner intellects, and the dupe of greedy 
courtesans ; a man who, trained in the stern school of adver- 
sity, overshadowed by the great horror of his father^s tragi- 
cal doom accepts life as one long jest, and being, by a con- 
catenation of circumstances bordering on the miraculous, 
restored to all the privileges of hereditary monarchy, takes 
all possible pains to prove the uselessness of kings. I see 
a man who, borne back to power by the irresistible current 
of the people’s aifections, has broken every pledge he gave 
that people in the flush and triumph of his return. I see 
one who, in his own person, cares neither for Paul nor Peter, 
and yet can tamely consent to persecution of whole masses 
of his people because they do not conform to a State re- 
ligion — can allow good and pious men to be driven out of 
the pulpits where they have preached the Gospel of Christ, 
and suffer wives and children to starve because the head 
of the household has a conscience. I see a king careless 
of the welfare of his people, and the honor and glory of his 
reign ; affecting to be a patriot, and a man of business, on 
the strength of an extravagant fancy for shipbuilding ; 
careless of everything save the empty pleasure of an idle 
hour. A king who lavishes thousands upon wantons and 
profligates, and who ever gives not to the most worthy, but 
to the most importunate.” 

I laughed at this tirade, and told him, what indeed I 
believe, that he is at heart a Puritan, and would better 
consort with Baxter and Bunyan, and that frousy crew, 
than with Buckhurst and Sedley, or his brilliant kinsman, 
Eoscommon.” 

From her father directly, Angela heard nothing, and 
her sister’s allusions to him were of the briefest, anxiously 


Letters From Home. 


55 


as she had questioned tha,t lively letter- writer. Yes, her 
father was well. Hyacinth told her ; but he stayed mostly at 
the Manor Moat. He did not care for the Court gayeties. 

I believe he thinks we have all parted company with 
our wits,^^ she wrote. He seldom sees me but to lecture 
me, in a sidelong way, upon my folly ; for the reprobation 
he aims at the company I keep hits me by implication. I 
believe these old courtiers of the late King are Puritans at 
heart ; and that if Archbishop Laud were alive he would 
be as bitter against the sins of the town as any of the 
cushion-thumping Anabaptists that preach to the elect in 
back rooms and blind alleys. My father talks and thinks 
as if he had spent all his years of exile in the cave of the 
Seven Sleepers. And yet he fought shoulder to shoulder 
with some of the finest gentlemen in France — Conde, 
Turenne, G-rammont, St. Evremond, Bussy, and the rest 
of them. But all the world is young, and full of wit and 
mirth since his majesty came to his own ; and elderly limbs 
are too stiff to trip in our new dances. I doubt my fathers 
mind is as old-fashioned, and of as rigid a shape as his 
court suit, at sight of which my best friends can scarce 
keep themselves from laughing.” 

This light mention of a parent whom she reverenced, 
wounded Angela to the quick ; and that wound was deep- 
ened a year later, when she was surprised by a visit from 
her father, of which no letter had forewarned her. She 
was walking in the convent garden, in her hour of recrea- 
tion, tasting the sunny air, and the beauty of the many- 
colored tulips in the long narrow borders, between two 
espalier rows trained with an exquisite neatness, and re- 
puted to bear the finest golden pippins and Bergamot pears 
within fifty miles of the city. The trees were in blossom, 
and a wall of pink and white bloom rose up on either hand 
above the scarlet and parrot stripes of the tulips. 

Turning at the end of the long alley, where it met a wall 


When The World Was Younger. 


56 

that in August was tapestried with peach trees, Angela 
saw a man advancing from the further end of the walk, 
attended by a lay sister. The high-crowned hat and pointed 
beard, the tall figure in a gray doublet crossed with a 
black swordbelt, the walk, the bearing, were unmistakable. 
It might have been a figure that had stepped out of Van- 
dyke'^s canvas. It had nothing of the fuss and fiutter, the 
heaping up of feathers and finery, the loose flow of brocade 
and velvet that marked the costume of the young French 
court. 

Angela ran to receive her father, and could scarce speak 
to him, she was so startled, and yet so glad. 

Oh, sir, when I prayed for you at Mass this morning, 
how little I hoped for so much happiness. I had a letter 
from Hyacinth only a week ago, and she wrote nothing of 
your intentions. I knew not that you had crossed the sea.'’^ 

Why, sweetheart. Hyacinth sees me too rarely, and is 
too full of her own affairs, ever to be beforehand with my 
intentions ; and although I have been long heartily sick 
of England I only made up my mind to come to Flanders 
less than a week ago. Ho sooner thought of than done. 
I came by our old road, in a merchant craft from Harwich 
to Ostend, and the rest of the way in the saddle. Hot 
quite so fast as they used to ride that carried his majesty’s 
post from London to York, in the beginning of the 
troubles, when the loyal gentlemen along the north road 
would gallop faster with dispatches and treaties than ever 
they rode after a stag. Ah, child, how hopeful we were 
in those days ; and how we all told each other it was but 
a passing storm at Westminster, which could all be lulled 
by a little civil concession here and there on the king’s 
part. And so it might, perhaps, if he would but have 
conceded the right thing at the right time — yielded but 
just the inch they asked for when they first asked — instead 
of shilly-shallying till they got angry and wanted ells in- 


Letters From Home. 


57 

stead of inches. ^ Tis the stitch in time, Angela, that saves 
tonble, in politics as well as in thy petticoat.'’^ 

He had flnng his arm round his daughters neck as they 
paced slowly side by side. 

Have you come to stay in Louvain, sir?^^ she asked 
timidly, 

Hay, love, the place is too quiet for me. I could not 
stay in a town that is given over to learning and piety 
The sound of their everlasting carillon would tease my ear 
with the thought, lo, another quarter of an hour gone of 
my poor remnant of days, and nothing to do but to doze 
in the sunshine or fondle my spaniel, fill my pipe, or ride 
a lazy horse on a level road, such as I have ever hated. 

^‘^But why did you tire of England, sir ? I thought 
the king would have wanted you always near him. You, 
his fathers close friend, who suffered so much for royal 
friendship. Surely he loves and cherishes you ! He must 
be a base, ungrateful man if he do not.'’^ 

Oh, the king is grateful, Angela, grateful enough and 
to spare. He never sees me at court but he has some gra- 
cious speech about his father’s regard for me. It grows 
irksome at last, by sheer repetition. The tune of the sen- 
tence varies, for his majesty has a fine standing army of 
words, but the phrase is always the same, and it means, 
^ Here is a tiresome old Put to whom I must say something 
civil for the sake of his ancient vicissitudes.’ And then 
this phalanx of foppery stares at me as if I were a Topi- 
nambon ; and since I have seen them mimic Hed Hyde’s 
stately speech and manners, I doubt not before I have 
crossed the ante-room I have served to make sport for the 
crew, since their wit has but two phrases — ordure and 
mimickry. Look not so glum, daughter. I am glad to 
be out of a court which is most like — such places as I dare 
not name to thee.” 

But to have you disrespected, sir ; you, so brave, so 


58 When The World Was Younger. 

noble ! You who gave the best years of your life to your 
royal master 

""What I gave I gave, child, I gave him youth — that 
never comes hack — and fortune, that is not worth grieving 
for. And now that I have begun to lose the reckoning of 
my years since fifty, I feel I had best take myself back to 
that roving life in which I have no time to brood upon 
losses and sorrows. 

"" Dear father, I am sure you must mistake the king’s 
feelings towards you. It is not possible that he can think 
lightly of such devotion as yours. 

"" Nay, sweetheart, who said he thinks lightly. He never 
thinks of me at all, or of anything serious under God^s 
sky. So long as he has spending money, and can live in a 
circle of bright eyes, and hear only flippant tongues that 
offer him a curious incense of flattery spiced with imper- 
tinence, Charles Stuart has all of this life that he values. 
And for the next — a man who is shrewdly suspected of be- 
ing a papist, while he is attached by gravest vows to the 
Church of England, must needs hold heaven^’s rewards and 
helks torments lightly.'’^ 

"" But Queen Catherine, sir ; does not she favor you ? 
My aunt says she is a good woman. 

""Yes, a good woman, and the nearest approach to a 
cypher to be found at Hampton Court or Whitehall. 
Young Lord Koch ester has written a poem upon " Noth- 
ing.^ He might have taken Queen Catherine's name as a 
synonym. She is nothing, she counts for nothing. Her 
love can benefit nobody ; her hatred, were the poor soul 
capable of hating persistently, can do no one harm.^^ 

""And the king — is he so unkind to her ?” 

"" Unkind ! No. He allows her to live. Nay, when 
for a few days — the brief felicity of her poor life — she 
seemed on the point of dying, he was stricken with remorse 
for all that he had not been to her, and was kind, and 


Letters From Home. 


59 


begged her to live for his sake. The polite gentleman 
meant it for a compliment — one of those pious falsehoods 
that are offered to the dying — but she took him at his 
word and recovered, and she is there still, a little dark lady 
in a fine gown, of whom nobody takes any notice, beyond 
the emptiest formality of bent knees and backward steps. 
There are long evenings at Hampton Court in which she 
is scarce spoken to, save when she fawns upon the fortu- 
nate lady whom she began by hating. Oh, child, I should 
not talk to you of these things ; but some of the disgust 
that has made my life bitter bubbles over in spite of me. 
I am a wanderer and an exile again, dear heart. I would 
sooner trail a pike abroad than suffer neglect at home. I 
will fight under any flag, so long as it fights not for my 
country's foe. I am going back to my old friends at the 
Louvre, to those feAV who are old enough to care for me ; 
and if there come a war with Spain, why, my sword may be 
of some small use to young Louis, whose mother was always 
gracious to me in the old days at St. Germain, when she 
knew not in the morning whether she would go safe to bed 
at night. A golden age of peace has followed that wild 
time ; but the Spanish hinge’s death is like to light the 
torch and set the war-dogs barking. Louis will thrust his 
sword through the treaty of the Pyrenees, if he see the way 
to a throne Pother side of the mountains.'’^ 

But could a good man violate a treaty 

Ambition knows no laws, sweet, nor ever has since 
Hannibal. 

^^Then King Louis is no better a man than King 
Charles ? 

I cannot answer for that, Angela ; but Pll warrant him 
a better king from the kingly point of view. Scarce had 
death freed him from the cardinaPs leading-strings, than 
he snatched the reins of power, showed his ministers that 
he meant to drive the coach. He has a head as fit for 


6o When The World Was Younger. 

business as if he had been a son of a woolen-draper. 
Mazarin took pains to keep him ignorant of everything 
that a king ought to know ; but that shrewd judgment of 
his taught him that he must know as much as his servants, 
unless he wanted them to be his masters. He has the pride 
of Lucifer, with a strength of will and power of application 
as great as Eichelieu^s. You will live to see that no second 
Richelieu, no new Mazarin, will arise in his reign. His 
ministers will serve him, and go down before him, like 
Hicolas Fouquet, to whom he has been implacable. 

Poor gentleman ! My aunt told me that when his 
judges sentenced him to banishment from France, the king 
changed the sentence to imprisonment for life.^^ 

I doubt if the king ever forgave those fetes at Vaux, 
which were designed to dazzle Mademoiselle la Vallidre, 
whom this man had the presumption to love. One may 
pity so terrible a fall, yet it is but the ruin of a bold sen- 
sualist, who played with millions as other men play with 
tennis balls, and who would have drained the exchequer 
by his briberies and extravagances if he had not been 
brought to a dead stop. The world has been growing 
wickeder, dearest, while this fair head has risen from my 
knee to my shoulder ; but what have you to do with its 

wickedness ? Here you are happy and at peace 

Hot happy, father, if you are to hazard your life in 
battles and sieges. Oh, sir, that life is too dear to us, your 
children, to be risked so lightly. You have done your 
share of soldiering. Everybody that ever heard your name 
in England or in France knows it is the name of a brave 
captain — a leader of men. For our sakes, take your rest 
now, dear sir. I should not sleep in peace if I knew you 
were with Conde's army. I should dream of you wounded 
and dying. I cannot bear to think of leaving my aunt 
now that she is old and feeble ; but my first duty is to you, 
and if you want me I will go with you wherever you may 


Letters From Home. 


6i 


please to make yonr home. I am not afraid of strange 
countries. ” 

‘■"Spoken like my sweet daughter, whose baby arms 
clasped my neck in the day of despair. But you must 
stay with the reverend mother, sweetheart. These bones 
of mine must he something stilfer before they will consent 
to rest in the chimney corner, or sit in the shade of a yew 
hedge while other men throw the howls. When I have 
knocked about the world a few years longer, and when 
Mother Anastasia is at rest, thou shalt come to me at the 
manor, and I will find thee a noble husband, and will end 
my days with my children and grandchildren. The world 
has so changed since the forties, that I shall think I have 
lived centuries instead of decades, when the farewell hour 
strikes. In the meantime I am pleased that you should be 
here. The court is no place for a pure maiden, though 
some sweet saints there be who can walk unsmirched in 
the midst of corruption. 

"" And Hyacinth ? She can know nothing of the court 
wickedness. She writes of Whitehall as if it were a para- 
dise.'’^ 

"" Hyacinth has a husband to take care of her ; a man 
with a brave headpiece of his own, who lets her spark it 
with the fairest company in the town, but would make 
short work of any fop who dared attempt the insolence of 
a suitor. Hyacinth has seen the worst and the best of two 
courts, and has an experience of the Palais Eoyal and 
Saint Germain, which should keep her safe at White- 
hall.^^ 

Sir John and his daughter spent half a day together in 
the garden and the parlor, where the traveler was enter- 
tained with a collation and a bottle of excellent Beaujolais 
before his horse was brought to the door. Angela saw him 
mount, and ride slowly away in the melancholy afternoon 
light, and she felt as if he were riding out of her life for- 


62 When The World Was Younger. 

ever. She went back to ber aunt^s room with an aching 
heart. Had not that kind lady, her mother in all the 
essentials of maternal love, been so near the end of her 
days, and so dependent on her niece^s affection, the girl 
would have clung about her father^s neck, and insisted 
upon going with him wherever he went. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. 

The reverend mother lingered till the beginning of 
summer, and it was on a lovely June evening, while 
the nightingales were singing in the convent garden, that 
the holy life slipped away into the great unknown. 
She died as a child falls asleep ; the saintly gray head 
lying peacefully on Angolan’s supporting arm ; the last look 
of the dying eyes resting on that tender nurse with infinite 
love. 

She was gone, and Angela felt strangely alone. Her 
contemporaries, the chosen friend who had been to her 
almost as a sister, the girls by whose side she had sat in 
class, had all left the convent. At twenty-one years of 
age, she seemed to belong to a former generation ; most 
of the pupils had finished their education at seventeen or 
eighteen, and had returned to their homes in Flanders, 
Prance, or England. There had been several English 
pupils, for Louvain and Douai had for a century been the 
chosen refuge of English Romanists. 

The pupils of to-day were Angela^s juniors, with whom 
she had nothing in common, except to teach English to 
a class of small Elemings, who were all but unteachable. 


The Valley Of The Shadow. 63 

She had heard no more from her father, and knew not 
where or with whom he might have cast in his lot. She 
wrote to him under cover to her sister, but of late Hyacinth^s 
letters had been rare and brief, only long enough, indeed 
to apologize for their brevity. Lady Fareham had been 
at London or at Hampton Court from the beginning of 
the previous winter. There was talk of the plague having 
come to London from Amsterdam, that the Privy Council 
was sitting at Sion House, instead of in London, that the 
judges had removed to Windsor, and that the court might 
speedily remove to Salisbury or Oxford. ■ And if the court 
goes to Oxford, we shall go to Chilton,^^ wrote Hyacinth ; 
and that was the last of her communication. 

July passed without news from father or sister, and 
Angela grew daily more uneasy about both. The great 
horror of the plague was in the air. It had been raging in 
Amsterdam in the previous summer and autumn, and a 
nun had brought the disease to Louvain, where she might 
have died in the convent infirmary but for Angela^s devoted 
attention. She had assisted the overworked infirmarian at 
a time of excess of sickness — for there was a good deal of 
illness among the nuns and pupils that summer — mostly 
engendered of the fear lest the pestilence in Holland should 
reach Flanders. Doctor and infirmarian had alike praised 
the girFs quiet courage and instinct for doing the right 
thing. 

You are the stuff we want in hospital s,"’"’ the Doctor 
said to Angela, and it is a pity there are so few of the 
same temper.'’^ 

Kemembering all the nun had told of the horrors of 
Amsterdam, Angela awaited with fear and trembling for 
news from London ; and as the summer wore on, every 
news-letter that reached the convent brought tidings of 
increasing sickness in the great prosperous city, which was 
being gradually deserted by all who could afford to leave 


64 When The World Was Younger. 

it. The court had moved first to Hampton Court, in 
June, and later to Salisbury, where again the French 
ambassadors people reported strange horrors — corpses 
found lying in the street hard by their lodgings — the king^s 
servants sickening. The air of the cathedral city was 
tainted — though deaths had been few as compared with 
London, which was becoming one vast lazar house — and 
it was thought the royalties and ambassadors would remove 
themselves to Oxford, where Parliament was to assemble 
in the autumn, instead of at Westminster. 

Most alarming of all was the news that the queen-mother 
had fied with all her people, and most of her treasures, 
from her palace at Somerset House — for Henrietta Maria 
was not a woman to fly before a phantom fear. She had 
seen too much of the stern realities of life to be scared by 
shadows ; and she had neither establishment nor power in 
France equal to those she left in England. In Paris the 
daughter of the great Henri was a dependent. In London 
she was second only to the king ; and her court was more 
esteemed than Whitehall. 

If she had fled, there must be reason for it,'’^ said the 
newly-elected Superior, who boasted of correspondents at 
Paris, notably a cousin in that famous convent, the Visitan- 
dines de Chaillot, founded by Queen Henrietta, and which 
had ever been a center of political and religious intrigue^ 
the most fashionable, patrician, exalted and altogether 
worldly establishment. 

Alarmed at this dismal news, Angela wrote urgently to 
her sister, but with no effect ; and the passage of every 
day, with occasional rumors of an increasing death-rate 
in London, strengthened her fears until terror nerved her 
to a desperate resolve. She would go to London to see 
her sister ; to nurse her if she were sick ; to mourn for 
her if she were dead. 

The Superior did all she could to oppose this decision. 


The Valley Of The Shadow. 65 

and even asserted authority over the pupil who, since her 
eighteenth year had been rather only a hoarder, subject but 
to the lightest laws of the convent. As the great-niece and 
beloved child of the late Superior, she had enjoyed all pos- 
sible privileges ; while the liberal sum annually remitted 
for her pension, gave her a certain importance in the estab- 
lishment. 

And now on being told she must not go, her spirit rose 
against the Superior's authority. 

I recognize no earthly power that can keep me from 
those I love in their time of peril ! ” she said. 

You do not know that they are in sickness or danger. 
My last letters from Paris stated that it was only the low 
people whom the contagion in London was attacking. 

^^If it was only the low people, why did the Queen- 
mother leave ? If it was safe for my sister to be in London, 
it would have been safe for the queen.” 

Lady Fareham is doubtless in Oxfordshire.” 

I have written to Chilton Abbey as well as to Fareham 
House, and I can get no answer. Indeed, reverend mother, 
it is time for me to go to those to whom I belong. I never 
meant to stay in this house after my aunt's death. I have 
only been waiting my fathers orders. If all be well with 
my sister, I shall go to the Manor Moat, and wait his com- 
mands quietly there. I am home-sick for England.” 

‘■‘ You have chosen an ill time for home-sickness when a 
pestilence is raging.” 

Argument could not touch the girl, whose mind was 
braced for battle. The reverend mother ceded with as 
good a grace as she could assume on the top of a very ar- 
bitrary temper. An English priest was heard of who was 
about to travel to London on his return to a noble friend 
and patron in the north of England, in whose house he 
had lived before the troubles, and in this good man's 
charge Angela was permitted to depart, on a long and 
5 


66 When The World Was Younger. 

weary journey by way of Antwerp and the Scheldt. They 
were five days at sea, the voyage lengthened by the almost 
unprecedented calm which had prevailed all that fatal 
summer. A weary voyage in a small trading vessel, on 
board which Angela had to suffer every hardship that a 
delicate woman can be subjected to on board ship. A 
wretched berth in a fioating cellar called a cabin, want of 
fresh water, of female attendance, and of any food but the 
coarsest. These deprivations she bore without a murmur. 
It was only the slowness of the passage that troubled 
her. 

The great city came in view at last, the long roof of St. 
Paubs dominating the thickly clustered gables and chim- 
neys, and the vessel anchored opposite the dark walls of the 
Tower, whose form had been made familiar to her by a 
print in an old history of London, ^hich she had hung over 
many an evening in Mother Anastasia^s parlor. A rowboat 
conveyed her and her fellow-traveler to the Tower stairs, 
where they landed, the priest being duly provided with an 
efficient voucher that they came from a city free of the 
plague. Yes, this was London. Her foot touched her 
native soil for the first time after fifteen years of absence. 
The good-natured priest would not leave her till he had seen 
her in charge of an elderly and most reputable waterman, 
recommended by the custodian of the stairs. Then he 
bade her an affectionate adieu, and fared on his way to a 
house in the city, where one of his kinsfolk, a devout 
Catholic, dwelt quietly hidden from the public eye, and 
where he would rest for the night before setting out on his 
journey to the north. 

After the impetuous passage through the deep dark arch 
of the bridge, the boat moved slowly up the river in the 
peaceful eventide, and Angela^s eyes opened wide with won- 
der as she looked on the splendors of that silent highway, 
this evening verily silent, for the traffic of business and 


The Valley Of The Shadow. 67 

pleasure had stopped in the terror of the pestilence, like a 
clock that had run down. It was said by one who had 
seen the fairest cities of Europe, that the most glorious 
sight in the world, take land and water together, was to 
come upon a high tide from Gravesend, and shoot the 
bridge to Westminster •/’ and to the convent-bred maiden 
how much more astonishing was that prospect. 

The boat passed in front of Lord ArundeFs sumptuous 
mansion, with its spacious garden, where marble statues 
showed white in the midst of quincunxes, and prim hedges 
of cypress and yew ; past the Palace of the Savoy, with its 
massive towers, battlemented roof, and double line of mul- 
lioned windows fronting the river ; past Worcester House, 
where the Lord Chancellor had been living in a sober 
splendor, while his princely mansion was building yonder 
on the Hounslow Koad, or that portion thereof lately known 
as Piccadilly. That was the ambitious pile of which 
Hyacinth had written, a house of clouded memories, and 
briefest tenure ; foredoomed to vanish like a palace seen 
in a dream, a vague magnificence, indescribable ; known 
for a little while opprobriously as Dunkirk House, the 
supposed result of the chancellor's too facile assistance in 
the surrender of that last rag of Erench territory. The 
boat passed before Eutland House, and Cecil House, 
some portion of which had lately been converted into the 
Middle Exchange, the haunt of fine ladies and Golconda 
of gentlewomen-milliners, favorite scene for assignations 
and intrigues ; and so by Durham House, where in the 
Protector Seymour^s time the Koyal Mint had been estab- 
lished, a house whose stately rooms were haunted by tragic 
associations, shadows of Northumberland's niece and 
victim, hapless Jane Grey, and of fated Ealeigh. Here, 
too, commerce shouldered aristocracy, and the New Ex- 
change of King James's time competed with the Middle Ex- 
change of later date, providing more milliners, perfumers. 


68 When The World Was Younger. 

glovers, barbers, and toymen, and more opportunity for 
illicit loves and secret meetings. 

Before Angela^s eyes those splendid mansions passed like 
phantasmal pictures. The westering sunlight showed 
golden behind the dark Abbey towers, while she sat silent, 
with awe-stricken gaze, looking out upon this widespread 
city that lay chastened and afflicted under the hand of an 
angry God. That beautiful, gay, proud, and splendid 
London of the West, the new London of Covent Garden, 
St. James’s Street, and Piccadilly, whose glories her sister’s 
pen had depicted with such fond enthusiasm, was now de- 
serted by the rabble of quality who had peopled its palaces, 
while the old London of the East, the historic city, was 
sitting in sackcloth and ashes, a place of lamentations, a 
city where men and women rose up in the morning hale 
and healthy, and at night-fall were carried away in the 
dead-cart, to be flung into the pit where the dead lay 
shroudless and unhonored. 

How still and sweet the summer air seemed in that sun- 
set hour ; how placid the light ripple of the incoming tide ; 
how soothing even the silence of the city ; and yet it all 
meant death. It was but a few months since the fatal in- 
fection had been brought over from Holland in a bundle of 
merchandise ; and, behold, through city and suburbs, the 
pestilence had crept with slow and stealthy foot, now on 
this side of a street, now on another. The history of the 
plague was like a game at drafts, where man after man 
vanishes off the board, and the game can only end by ex- 
haustion. 

See, mistress, yonder is Somerset House,” said the 
boatman, pointing to one of the most commanding fa 9 ades 
in that highway of palaces. That is the palace which 
the queen-mother has raised from the ashes of the ruins 
her folly made, for the husband who loved her too well. 
She came back to us no wiser for years of exile — came back 


The Valley Of The Shadow. 69 

with her priests and her Italian singing-boys, her incense- 
bearers, and golden candlesticks, and gaudy rags of Rome. 
She fled from England with the roar of cannon in her ears, 
and the fear of death in her heart. She came back in 
pride and vain-glory, and boasted that had she known the 
English people better, she would never have gone away ; 
and she has squandered thousands on yonder palace upon 
floors of colored woods, and Italian marbles, the people^s 
money, mark you, money that should have built ships, and 
fed sailors, and she meant to end her days among us. But 
a worse enemy than Cromwell has driven her out of the 
house that she made beautiful for herself ; and who knows 
if she will ever see London again. 

^^Then those were right who told me that it was for fear 
of the plague her majesty left London,^^ said Angela. 

For what else should she flee ? She was loth enough 
to leave, you may be sure, for she has seated herself in her 
pride yonder, and her court was as splendid and more 
looked up to than Queen Catherine^'s. The queen-mother 
is the prouder woman, and held her head higher than her 
son^s wife has ever dared to hold hers ; yet there are those 
who say King Charleses widow has fallen so low as to marry 
Lord St. Albans, a son of Belial, who would hazard his im- 
mortal soul on a cast of the dice, and lose it as freely as he 
has squandered his royal mistresses money. She paid for 
Jeremyes feasting, and wine-bibbing, in Paris, Tis said, 
when her son and his friends were on short commons, e’ 

You do wrong to slander that royal lady,^^ remonstrated 
Angela. She is of all widows the saddest and most deso- 
late— ever the mark of evil fortune. Even in the glorious 
year of her son^s restoration sorrow pursued her, and she 
had to mourn a daughter and a son. She is a most un- 
happy lady ! 

You would scarcely say as much, young madam, had 
you seen her in her pomp and power yonder. And as for 


70 When The World Was Younger. 

Lord St. Albans, if he is not her husband ! Well, 

thou art a young, innocent thing — so I had best hold my 
peace. Both palaces are empty and forsaken, both White- 
hall and Somerset House. The rats and the spiders can 
take their own pleasure in the rooms that were full of music 
and dancing, card-playing and feasting two or three 
months ago. Why, there was no better sight in London, 
after the dead-cart, than to watch the train of carriages 
and horsemen, carts and wagons, upon any of the great 
high-roads, carrying the people of London away to the 
country, as if the whole city had been moving in one mass 
like a routed army.^^ 

But in palaces and noblemen^s houses surely there 
would be little danger ? said Angela. Plagues and 
fevers are the outcome of hunger and uncleanliness, and 
all such evils as the poor have to suffer.” 

Hay, but the pestilence that walketh by noontide is no 
respecter of persons,” answered the grim boatman. I 
grant you that death has dealt hardest with the poor 
who dwell in crowded lanes and alleys, but now the very 
air reeks with poison. It may be carried in the folds of a 
woman's gown, or among the feathers of a courtier's hat. 
They are wise to go who can go. It is only such as I, who 
have to work for my grandchildren's bread, that must needs 
stay.” 

You speak like one who has seen better days,” said 
Angela. 

^"I was a sergeant in Hampden's regiment, madam, and 
went all through the war. When the king came back I 
had friends who stood by me, and bought me this boat. 
I was used to handle an oar in my boyhood, when I lived 
on a little bit of a farm that belonged to my father, be- 
tween Beading and Henley. I was oftener on the river 
than on the land in those days. There are some who have 
treated me roughly because I fought against the late king ; 


71 


The Valley Of The Shadow. 

but folks are beginning to find out that the Brewer^s dis- 
banded red-coats can be honest and serviceable in time of 
peace.” 

After passing the queen-mother’s desolate palace the boat 
crept along near the Middlesex shore, till it stopped at the 
bottom of a fiight of stone steps, against which the tide 
washed with a pleasant rippling sound, and above which 
there rose the walls of a stately building facing southwest ; 
small as compared with Somerset and JSTorthumberland 
houses, midway between which it stood, yet a spacious and 
noble mansion, with a richly decorated river-front, lofty 
windows with sculptured pediment, fioriated cornice, and 
two side towers topped with leaded cupolas, the whole edi- 
fice gilded by the low sun, and very beautiful to look upon, 
the windows gleaming as if there were a thousand candles 
burning within, a light that gave a false idea of life and 
festivity, since that brilliant illumination was only a re- 
flected glory. 

This, madam, is Fareham House,” said the boatman, 
holding out his hand for his fee. 

He charged treble the sum he would have asked half a 
year ago. In this time of evil those intrepid spirits who 
still plied their trades in the tainted city demanded a heavy 
fee for their labor ; and it would have been hard to dis- 
pute their claim, since each man knew that he went with 
his life in his hand, and that the limbs which toiled to-day 
might be lifeless clay to-night. There was an awfulness 
about the time, a taste and odor of death mixed with all 
the common things of daily life, a morbid dwelling upon 
thoughts of corruption, a feverish expectancy of the end of 
all things, which no man can rightly conceive who has not 
passed in some wise and in some day of all encompassing 
peril through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 

Angela paid the man his price without question. She 
stepped lightly from the boat, while he deposited her two 


72 When The World Was Younger. 

small leather-covered trnuks on the stone landing-place 
in front of the Italian terrace which occupied the whole 
length of the fa9ade. She went up a flight of marble 
steps, to a door facing the river. Here she rang a bell 
which pealed long and loud over the quiet water, a bell 
that must have been heard upon the Surrey shore. Yet 
no one opened the great oak door ; and Angela had a sud- 
den sinking at the heart as the slow minutes passed and 
brought no sound of footsteps within, no clanking or bolt 
to betoken the opening of the door. 

Belike the house is deserted, madam, said the boat- 
man, who had moored his wherry to the landing-stage, and 
had carried the two trunks to the doorstep. You had 
best try if the door be fastened or no. Stay ! ” he cried 
suddenly, pointing upwards. ^^Go not in, madam, for 
your life ! Look at the red cross on the door, the sign of 
a plague-stricken-house. 

Angela looked up with awe and horror. A great cross 
was smeared upon the door with red paint, and above it 
some one had scrawled the words, Lord have mercy 
upon us ! 

And the sister she loved, and the children whose faces 
she had never seen were within that house sick and in 
peril of death, perhaps dying — or dead ! She did not 
hesitate for an instant, but took hold of the heavy iron 
ring which served as a handle for the door, and tried to 
open it. 

I have no fear for myself, she said to the boatman ; 

I have nursed the sick and the fever-stricken, and am 
not afraid of contagion — and there are those within whom 
I love. Good-night, friend.'’^ 

The handle of the door turned somewhat stiffly in her 
hand, but it did turn, and the door opened, and she stood 
upon the threshold looking into a vast hall that was 
wrapped in shadow, save for a shaft of golden light that 


73 


The Valley Of The Shadow. 

streamed from a lofty window on the staircase. Other 
windows there were on each side of the door, shuttered 
and barred. 

Seeing her enter the house, the old Cromwellian shrugged 
his shoulders, shook his head despondently, shoved the 
two trunks hastily over the threshold, ran back to his 
boat, and pushed off. 

^^God guard thy young life, mistress,” he cried, and 
the wherry shot out into the stream. 

There had been silence on the river, the silence of a 
deserted city at eventide, but that was as nothing to the 
stillness of this marble-paved hall, where the sunset was 
reflected on the dark oak paneling in one lurid splash like 
blood. 

Not a mortal to be seen. Not a sound of voice or foot- 
step. A crowd of gods and goddesses in draperies of azure 
and crimson, purple and orange, looked down from the ceil- 
ing. Curtains of tawny velvet hung beside the shuttered 
windows. A great brazen candelabrum fllled with half- 
consumed candles stood tall and splendid at the foot of 
a wide oak staircase, the broad bannister rail whereof was 
cushioned with tawny velvet. Splendor of fabric, wood and 
marble, color and gilding, showed on every side ; but of 
humanity there was no sign. 

Angela shuddered at the sight of all that splendor, as 
if death were playing hide and seek in those voluminous 
curtains, or were lurking in the deep shadow which the 
massive staircase cast across the hall. She looked about 
her full of fear, then seeing a silver bell upon the table, 
she took it up and rang it loudly. Upon the same carved 
ebony table there lay a plumed hat, cane with an amber 
handle, and a velvet cloak neatly folded, as if placed ready 
for the master of the house when he went abroad ; but 
looking at these things closely even in that dim light, she 
saw that cloak and hat were white with dust, and, more 


74 


When The World Was Younger. 


even than the silence, that spectacle of the thick dust on 
the dark velvet impressed her with the idea of a deserted 
house. 

She had no lack of courage, this pupil of the Flemish 
nuns, and her footstep did not falter as she went quickly 
up the broad staircase until she found herself in a spacious 
gallery, and amidst a flood of light, for the windows on 
this upper or noble floor were all unshuttered, and the sun- 
set streamed in through the lofty Italian casements. Fare- 
ham House was built upon the plan of the Hotel de Eam- 
bouillet, of which the illustrious Catherine de Vivonne 
was herself at once owner and architect. The staircase, 
instead of being a central feature, was at the eastern end 
of the house, allowing space for an unbroken suite of rooms 
communicating one with the other, and terminating in an 
apartment with a fine oriel window looking up the river. 

The folding doors of a spacious saloon stood wide open, 
and Angela entered a room whose splendor was a surprise 
to her who had been accustomed to the sober simplicity of 
a convent parlor, and the cold gray walls of the refectory, 
where the only picture was a pinched and angular Virgin by 
Memling, and the only ornament a crucifix of ebony and 
brass. 

Here for the first time she beheld a saloon for whose dec- 
oration palaces had been ransacked and churches dese- 
crated. The stolen treasures of many an ancestral mansion, 
spoil of rough soldiery or city rabble, things that had been 
slyly stowed away by their possessors during the stern 
simplicity of the Commonwealth, and had been brought 
out of their hiding-places and sold to the highest bidder. 
Gold and silver had been melted down in the Great Rebel- 
lion ; but art treasures would not serve to pay soldiers or 
to buy ammunition ; so these had escaped the melting-pot. 
At home and abroad the storehouses of curiosity merchants 
had been explored to beautify Lady Fareham^s reception 


The Valley Of The Shadow. 

rooms ; and in the fading light Angela gazed upon hang- 
ings that were worthy of a royal palace, upon Italian crys- 
tals, and Indian carvings, upon ivory, and amber, and 
jade, and jasper, upon tables of Florentine mosaic and 
ebony cabinets incrusted with rare agates, and upon pic- 
tures in frames of massive and elaborate carving, Venetian 
mirrors which gave back the dying light from a thousand 
facets, curtains and portieres of sumptuous brocade, gold 
embroidered, gorgeous with the silken semblance of pea- 
cock plumage, done with the needle, from the royal manu- 
factory of the crown furniture at the Gobelins. But 
amidst all this splendor there was no indication of human 
life. Yes, on a table under a Venetian chan dlier, in which 
spun glass simulated the delicate tracery of flowers and 
leaves, there was a heap of cards flung carelessly upon the 
polished porphyry, a dice box, and a pair of dice, a crystal 
flask, stained with the dregs of red wine, and some tall 
drinking-glasses. The Oriental carpet below the table was 
covered with scattered cards, and the positions of the 
chairs indicated that there had been at least four players. 
A silver candelabrum upon an ebony pedestal near the 
table had furnished light for the game. The candles had 
burnt to the sockets. 

Angela made but a hasty survey of this apartment ; but 
she noted the card-table and its indications, which did but 
jump with Hyacinth^s account of long nights at basset, 
and of fortunes that changed hands at a sitting. 

She passed into an ante-room, with tapestried walls, and 
a divan covered with raised velvet, a music desk of gilded 
wood, and a spinet, on which was painted the story of Or- 
pheus and Eurydice. Beyond this there was the dining- 
room, more soberly though no less richly furnished than 
the saloon. Here the hangings were of Cordovan leather, 
stamped and gilded with fleur-de-lys, suggesting a French 
origin, and indeed these very hangings had been bought 


y6 When The World Was Younger. 

by a Dutch Jew dealer in the time of the Fronde, and had 
belonged to the hated minister Mazarin, and had been sold 
among other of his effects when he fled from Paris : to 
vanish for a brief season behind the clouds of public ani- 
mosity, and to blaze out again, an elderly phoenix, in a 
new palace, adorned with treasures of art and industry 
that made royal princes envious. 

Angela gazed on all this splendor as one bewildered. 
In front of that gilded wall, quivering in mid-air, as if it 
had been painted upon the shaft of light that streamed in 
from the tall window, her fancy pictured the blood-red 
cross and the piteous legend, Lord have mercy on us ! 
written in the same blood-color. For herself she had 
neither horror of the pestilence nor fear of death. Ee- 
ligion had familiarized her mind with the image of the 
destroyer. From her childhood she had been acquainted 
with the grave, and with visions of a world beyond the 
grave. It was not for herself she trembled, but for her 
sister, and her sister’s children ; for Lord Fareham, whose 
likeness she recalled even at this moment, the grave dark 
face which Hyacinth had shown her on the locket she wore 
upon her neck, the face which Sir John said reminded 
him of Strafford. 

He has just that fatal look,” her father had told her 
afterwards when they talked of Fareham, the look that 
men saw in Wentworth’s face when he came from Ireland, 
and in his majesty’s countenance, after Wentworth’s 
murder.” 

While she stood in the dying light, wavering for a mo- 
ment, doubtful which way to turn — since the room had no 
less than three tall oak doors, with richly sculptured heads, 
two of them ajar — there came a pattering upon the polished 
floor, a pattering of feet that were lighter and quicker 
than those of the smallest child, and the first living crea- 
ture Angela saw in that silent house, came running to- 


17 


The Valley Of The Shadow. 

wards her. It was only a little black-and-tan spaniel, with 
long silky hair and drooping ears, and great brown eyes, 
fond and gentle, a very toy and trifle in the canine king- 
dom ; yet the sight of that living thing thrilled her awe- 
stricken heart, and her tears came thick and fast as she 
knelt and took the little dog in her arms and pressed him 
against her bosom, and kissed the cold muzzle, and looked, 
half laughing, half crying, into the pathetic brown eyes. 

At least there is life near. This dog would not be left 
in a deserted house,^^ she thought, as the creature trembled 
against her bosom, and licked the hand that held him. 

The pattering was repeated in the adjoining room, and 
another spaniel, which might have been twin brother of 
the one she held, came through the half open door, and 
ran to her, and set up a jealous barking which reverberated 
in the lofty room, and from within that unseen chamber 
on the other side of the door there came a groan, a deep 
and hollow sound, as of mortal agony. 

She set down the dog in a instant, and was on her 
feet again, trembling but alert. She pushed the door a 
little wider and went into the next apartment, a bedroom 
more splendid than any bedchamber her fancy had ever 
depicted when she read of royal palaces. 

The walls were hung with Mortlake tapestries, that 
seemed to have been worked but yesterday, so fresh and 
glowing were the colors, tapestries representing in four 
great panels the story of Perseus and Andromeda, and the 
Kape of Proserpine. To her who knew not the old Greek 
fables, those figures looked strangely diabolical. Naked 
maiden and fiery dragon, flying horse and Greek hero. De- 
meter and Persephone, hell-god and chariot, seemed alike 
demoniac and unholy, seen in the dim light of expiring day. 
The high chimney-piece, with its Oriental jars, blood-red 
and amber, faced her as she entered the room, and opposite 
the three tall windows stood the state bed, of carved ebony. 


78 When The World Was Younger. 

the posts adorned with massive bouquets of chased silver 
flowers, the curtains of wine-colored velvet, heavy with 
bullion fringes. One curtain had been looped back, 
showing the amber satin lining, and on this bed of state 
lay a man, writhing in agony, with one bloodless hand 
plucking at the cambric upon his bosom, while with the 
other he grasped the ebony bed-post in a paroxysm of 
pain. 

Angela knew that dark and powerful face at the first 
glance, though the features were distorted by suffering. 
This sick man, the sole occupant of a deserted mansion, 
was her brother-in-law. Lord Fareham. A large high- 
backed armchair stood beside the bed, and on this Angela 
seated herself. She recollected the Superiors injunction 
just in time to put one of the anti-pestilential lozenges 
into her mouth before she bent over the sufferer, and took 
his clammy hand in hers, and endured the acrimony of his 
poisonous breath. That anxious gaze, the dark yellow 
complexion, and those great beads of sweat that poured 
down the pinched countenance, too plainly indicated the 
disease which had desolated London. The Moslem^s in- 
visible plague-angel had entered this palace, and had 
touched the master with his deadly lance. That terrible 
presence Avhich for the most part had been found among 
the dwellings of the poor, was here amidst purple and 
fine linen, here on this bed of state, enthroned in ebony 
and silver, hung round with velvet and bullion. She 
needed not to discover the pestilential spots beneath that 
semi-diaphanous cambric which hung loose upon the 
muscular frame, to be convinced of the cruel fact. Here, 
abandoned and alone, lay the master of the house, with 
nothing better than a pair of spaniels for his companions, 
and neither nurse nor watcher, wufe nor friend to help him 
to recovery, or comfort his passing soul. 

One of the little dogs leapt on the bed, and licked his 


The Valley Of The Shadow. 79 

master’s face again and again, whining piteously between 
whiles. 

The sick man looked at Angela with awful unseeing 
eyes, and then burst into a wild laugh — 

See them run, the crop-headed clod-hoppers ! ” he 
cried. Ride after them — mow them down — scatter the 
rebel clot-pots ! The day in ours ! ” And then, passing 
from English to French, from visions of Lindsey and 
Rupert, and the pursuit atEdgehill, to memories of Conde 
and Turenne, he shouted with a voice that was like the 
sound of a trumpet, Boutte-selle ! boutte-selle ! Monte 
a cheval ! monte a cheval ! a I’arme, a I’arme ! ” 

He was in the field of battle again. His wandering wits 
had carried him back to his first fight, when he was a lad 
in his father’s company of horse, following the king’s fort- 
unes, breathing gunpowder, and splashed with blood for 
the first time — when it was not so long since he had been 
blooded at the death of his first fox. He was a young man 
again, with the prince, that Bourbon Prince, and hero 
whom he loved and honored far above any of his own coun- 
trymen. 

0 , la folle entreprise du Prince de Conde,” he sang, 
waving his hand above his head, while the spaniels barked 
loud and shrill, adding their clamor to his. He raved of 
battles and sieges. He was lying in the trenches, in cold, 
and rain, and wind, in the tempestuous darkness. He was 
mounting the breach at Dunkirk, against the Spaniard ; 
at Charenton in a hand-to-hand fight with Frondeurs. He 
raved of Chatillon and Chanleu, and the slaughter of that 
fatal day when Conde mourned a friend, and each side lost 
a leader. Fever gave force to gesture and voice ; but in 
the midst of his ravings he fell back, half fainting, upon 
the pillow, his heart beating in a tumult which fluttered 
the lace upon the bosom of his shirt, while the acrid drops 
upon his brow gathered thicker than poisonous dew. 


8o When The World Was Younger. 

Angela remembered how last year in Holland these death- 
like sweats had not always pointed to a fatal result, but in 
some cases had afforded an outlet to the pestilential influ- 
ences, though in too many instances they had served only 
to enfeeble the patient, the fire of disease still burning, 
while the damps of approaching dissolution oozed from the 
fevered body — flame within and ice without. 


CHAPTER V. 

A MH^-ISTEKING ANGEL. 

Angela flung off hood and mantle, and looked anxiously 
round the room. There were some empty phials and oint- 
ment boxes, some soiled linen rags, and wet sponges upon 
a table near the bed, and the chamber reeked with the 
odor of drugs, hartshorn, and elder vinegar ; cantharides,. 
and aloes, enough to show that a doctor had been there, 
and that there had been some attempt at nursing the pa- 
tient. But she had heard how in Holland the nurses had 
sometimes robbed and abandoned their charges, taking ad- 
vantage of the confusions and uncertainties of that period 
of despair, quick and skillful to profit by sudden death, and 
the fears and agonies of relatives and friends, whose grief 
made plunder easy. She deemed it likely that one of those 
devilish women had first pretended to succor, and had 
then abandoned Lord Eareham to his fate, after robbing 
his house. Indeed the open doors of a stately inlaid ward- 
robe between two windows over against the bed, and the 
confused appearance of the clothes and linen on the shelves 
indicated that ifc had been ransacked by hastv hands ; 
while, doubtless, there had been many valuables lying loose 


A Ministering Angel. 8 1 

about in a house where there was every indication of a care- 
less profusion. 

Alas, poor gentleman, to be left by some mercenary 
wretch — left to die like the camel in the desert ! 

She bent over him, and laid her hand with gentle firm- 
ness upon his death-cold forehead. 

What ! are there saints and angels in hell as well as 
devils and sinners ? he cried, clutching her by the wrist, 
and looking up at her with distended eyes, in which the 
natural color of the eyeball was tarnished almost to black- 
ness with injected blood. For long and lonely hours, that 
seemed an eternity, he had been tossing in a burning fever 
upon that disordered bed, until he verily believed himself 
in a place of everlasting torment. He had that strange, 
double sense which goes with delirium — the consciousness 
of his real surroundings, the tapestry and furniture of his 
own chamber, and yet the conviction that this was hell, 
and had always been hell, and that he had descended to 
this terrible under-world through infinite abysses of dark- 
ness. The glow of sunset had been to him the fierce light 
of everlasting flames ; the burning of fever was the fire 
that is never quenched ; the pain that racked his limbs 
was the worm that dieth not. And now in his torment 
there came the vision of a seraphic face bent over him in 
gentle solicitude, a face that brought comfort with it, even 
in the midst of his agony. After that one wild question 
he sank slowly back upon the pillows, and lay faint and 
weak, his breathing scarce audible. Angela laid her fingers 
on his wrist. The pulse was fluttering and intermittent. 

She remembered every detail of her aunt^s treatment of 
the plague-patient in the convent infirmary, and how the 
turning-point of the malady and beginning of cure had 
seemed to be brought about by a draught of strong wine, 
which the reverend mother had made her give the poor 
fainting creature at a crisis of extreme weakness. She 

6 


B2 When The World Was Younger. 

looked about the room for any flask which might contain 
wine, but there was nothing there except the apothecary^s 
phials and medicaments. 

It was dusk already, and she was alone in a strange 
house. It would seem no easy task to And what she 
wanted, but the case was desperate, and she knew enough 
of this mysterious disease to know that if the patient could 
not rally speedily from this prostrate condition the end 
must be near. With steady brain she set herself to face 
the difficulty — flrst to administer something which should 
sustain the sick man^s strength, and then, without loss of 
time, to seek a physician, and bring him to that deserted 
bed. Wine was the one thing she could trust to in this 
crisis ; for of the doses and lotions on yonder table she 
knew nothing, nor had her experience made her a believer 
in the happy influence of drugs. 

Her flrst search must be for light with which to explore 
the lower part of the house, where in pantry or stillroom, 
or, if not above-ground, in the cellars, she must And what 
she wanted. Surely somewhere in that spacious bed- 
chamber there would be tinder-box and matches. There 
were a pair of silver candlesticks on the dressing-table, 
with thick wax candles burnt nearly to the sockets. 

A careful search at last discovered a tinder-box and 
matches in a dark angle of the flreless hearth, hidden be- 
hind the heavy iron dogs. She struck a light, kindled her 
match, and lighted a candle, the sick man^s eyes following 
all her movements, but his lips mute. As she went out of 
the door he called after her — 

Leave me not, thou holy visitant — leave not my soul 
in hell ! ” 

I will return ! she cried. Have no fear, sir ; I go 
to fetch some wine.'’^ 

Her errand was not done quickly. Amidst all the mag- 
nificence she had noted on her journey through the long 


A Ministering Angel. 83 

suite of reception-rooms — the littered treasures of amber 
and gold, and ivory and porcelain and silver — she had seen 
only an empty wine-flask ; so with quick footfall she had 
ran down the wide, shallow stairs to the lower floor, and 
here she found herself in a labyrinth of passages opening 
into small rooms and servants^ ofiices. Here there were 
darkness and gloom rather than splendor, though in many 
of those smaller rooms there was a sober and substantial 
luxury which became the inferior apartments of a palace. 
She came at last to a room which she took to be the butler^s 
ofiice, where there were dressers with a great array of 
costly glass, Venetian and English, and a great many pieces 
of silver — cups, tankards, salvers and other ornamental 
plate — in presses behind glazed doors. One of the glass 
panels had been broken, and the shelves in that press were 
empty. 

Wine there was none to be found in any part of the 
room, but a small army of empty bottles in a corner of the 
floor, and a confusion of greasy plates, knives, chicken 
bones, and other scraps indicated that there had been 
carousing here at no remote time. 

The cellars were doubtless below these offices, but the 
wine-cellars would assuredly be locked, and she had to 
search for the keys. She opened drawer after drawer in 
the lower part of the presses, and at last, in an inner and 
secret drawer, found a multitude of keys, some of which 
were provided with parchment labels, and among these 
happily were two labeled Ye great wine cellar, S.,” and 

Ye smaller wine cellar, W.” 

This was a point gained ; but the search had occupied 
a considerable time. She had yet enough candle to last 
for about half an hour, and her next business was to And 
one of those cellars which those keys opened. She was 
intensely anxious to return to her patient, having heard 
how in some cases unhappy wretches had leapt from the bed 


84 When The World Was Younger. 

of death and rushed out of doors, delirious, half-naked, to 
anticipate the end of a fatal chill. 

On her way to the butler^s office she had seen a stone 
archway at the head of a flight of stairs leading down into 
darkness. By this staircase she hoped to find the wine- 
cellars, and presently descended, her candlestick in one 
hand, and the two great keys in the other. As she went 
down into the stone basement, which was built with the 
solidity of a dungeon, she heard the plash of the tide, and 
felt that she was now on a level with the river. Here she 
found herself again in a labyrinth of passages, with many 
doors standing ajar. At the end of one passage she came 
to a locked door, and on trying her keys, found one of 
them to fit the lock ; it was Ye great wine cellar S.,^^ 
and she understood by the initial that the cellar 

looked south and faced the river. 

She turned the heavy key with an effort that strained the 
slender fingers which held it ; but she was unconscious of 
the pain, and wondered afterwards to see her hand dented 
and bruised where the iron had wrung it. The heavy door 
revolved on massive hinges, and she entered a cellar so large 
that the light of her candle did not reach the furthermost 
corners and recesses. 

This cellar was built in a series of arches, fitted with 
stone bins, and in the upper part of one southward-fronting 
arch there was a narrow grating, through which came the 
cool breath of evening air and the sound of water lapping 
against stone. A patch of faint light showed pale against 
the iron bars, and as Angela looked that way, a great gray 
rat leapt through the grating, and ran along the topmost 
bin, making the bottles shiver as he scuttled across them. 
Then came a thud on the sawdust-covered stones, and she 
knew that the loathsome thing was on the floor upon which 
she was standing. She lowered her light shudderingly, 
and for the first time since she entered that house of 


A Ministering Angel. 85 

dread the young, brave heart sank with the sickness of 
fear. 

The cellar might swarm with such creatures ; the dark- 
ness of the fast-coming night might be alive with them ! 
And if yonder dungeon-like door were to swing to and shut 
with a spring lock, she might perish there in the darkness. 
She might die the most hideous of deaths, and her fate 
remain forever unknown. 

In a sudden panic she rushed back to the door, and 
pushed it wider — pushed it to its extremest opening. It 
seemed too heavy to be likely to swing back upon its hin- 
ges ; yet the mere idea of such a contingency appalled her. 
Eemembering her labor in unlocking the door from the 
outside, she doubted if she could open it from within were 
it once to close upon that awful vault. And all this time 
the lapping of the tide against the stone sounded louder, 
and she saw little spirits of spray flashing against the bars 
in the lessening light. 

She collected herself with an effort, and began her search 
for the wine. Sack was the wine she had given to the 
sick nun, and it was that wine for which she looked. Of 
Burgundy and claret, labeled Clary Wine,” she found 
several full bins, and more that were nearly empty ; Tokay 
and other rarer wines were denoted by the parchment labels 
which hung above each bin ; but it was some minutes be- 
fore she came to a bin labeled Sherris,” which she knew 
was another name for the same kind of Spanish wine. 
The bottles had evidently been undisturbed for a long time, 
for the bin was full of cobwebs, and the thick coating of 
dust upon the glass betokened a respectable age in the 
wine. She carried off two bottles, one under each arm, and 
then with even quicker steps than had brought her to that 
darksome place she hastened back to the upper floor 
leaving the key in the cellar door, and the door un- 
locked. There would be time enough to look after Lord 


86 When The World Was Younger. 

Fareham^s wine when she had cared for Lord Fareham 
himself. 

His eyes were fixed upon the doorway as she entered. 
They shone upon her in the dusk with an awful glassiness, 
as if lifer’s last look had become fixed in death. He did 
not speak as she drew near the bed, and set the wine bot- 
tles down upon the table among the drugs and cataplasms. 

She had found a silver-handled corkscrew in the butler^s 
room among the relics of the feast, and with this she 
opened one of the bottles, Fareham watching her all the 
time. 

^^Is that some new Alexapharmic ? ^•’ he asked with a 
sudden rational air, which was almost as startling as if a 
dead man had spoken. ‘‘1 will have no more of their 
loathsome drugs. They have made an apothecary^s shop 
of my body. I would rather they let me rot by the plague 
than poison me with their antidotes, or dissolved me to 
death with their sudorifics.'’^ 

^‘^This is not a medicine. Lord Fareham, but your 
own wine ; and I want you to drink a long draught of 
it, and then, who knows, but you may sleep off your 
malady.^'’ 

Ay, sleep in my grave, sweet friend ! I have seen the 
tokens of my breast that means death. There is but one 
inevitable end for all who are so marked. ^Tis like the 
forester’s notch upon the tree. It means doom. He was 
king of the forest once perhaps : but no matter. His 
time has come. Oh, Lord, thou hast tormented me with 
hot burning coals ! " he cried, in a sudden access of pain ; 
and in the next minute he was raving. 

Angela filled a beaker with the bright golden wine, and 
offered it to the sick man’s lips. It was not without infi- 
nite pains and coaxing that she induced him to drink : but 
when once his parched lips had tasted the cold liquor, he 
drank eagerly, as if that strong wine had been a draught of 


87 


A Ministering Angel. 

water. He gave a deep sigh, of solace when the beaker was 
empty, for he had been enduring an agony of thirst through 
all the glare and heat of the afternoon, and there was un- 
speakable comfort in that first long drink. He would 
have drunk foul water with almost as keen a relish. 

He talked fast and furiously, in the disjointed sentences 
of delirium, for some little time ; and then, little by little, 
he grew more tranquil ; and Angela, sitting beside the bed, 
with her fingers laid gently on his wrist, marked the 
quieter beat of the pulse, which no longer fiuttered like 
the wing of a frightened bird. Then with deep thankful- 
ness she saw the eyelids droop over the bloodshot eyeballs, 
while the breathing grew slower and heavier as sleep 
clouded the weary brain. The spaniels crept nearer 
him, and nestled close to his pillow, so that the man^s dark 
locks were mixed with the silken curls of the dogs. 

Would he die in that sleep, she wondered ? 

It was only now for the first time since she entered this 
unpeopled house that she had leisure to speculate on the 
circumstances which had brought about such loneliness 
and neglect, here where rank, and state, and wealth almost 
without limit should have secured the patient every care 
and comfort that devoted service could lavish upon a suf- 
ferer. How was it that she found her sister^s husband 
abandoned to the care of hirelings, left to the chances of 
paid service. 

To the cloister-reared maiden the idea of wifely duty 
was elevated almost to a religion. To father or to hus- 
band she would have given a boundless devotion, in sick- 
ness most of all devoted. To leave husband or father in a 
plague-stricken city would have seemed to her a crime as 
abominable as Tullia^s, a treachery base as Gonerihs or 
Regan^s. Could it be that her sister, that bright and 
lovely creature, whose face she remembered as a sunbeam 
incarnate, could she have been swept away by the pesth 


88 


When The World Was Younger. 


lence which spared neither youth nor beauty, neither the 
strong man nor the weakling child ? Her heart grew 
heavy as lead at the thought that this stranger, by 
whose pillow she was watching, might be the sole survivor 
in that forsaken palace, and that in a few more hours he, 
too, would be numbered with the dead, in that dreadful 
city where death reigned omnipotent, and where the living 
seemed but a vanishing minority, pale shadows of living 
creatures passing silently along one inevitable pathway to 
the pest-house or pit. 

That calm sleep of the plague-stricken might mean re- 
covery, or it might mean death. Angela examined the po- 
tions and unguents on the table near the bed, and read the 
instructions on jars and phials. One was an Alexaphar- 
mic draught, to be taken the last thing at night, another 
a sudorific, to be administered once in every hour. 

I would not wake him to give him the finest medicine 
that ever physician prescribed,’^ Angela said to herself. 
‘^1 remember what a happy change one hour of quiet 
slumber made in Sister Monica, when she was all but dead 
of a quartan fever. Sleep is God’s physic.” 

She knelt upon a Prie-Dieu chair remote from the bed, 
knowing that contagion lurked amid those voluminous 
hangings, beneath that stately canopy with its lustrous 
satin lining, on which the light of the wax candles was 
reflected in shining patches as upon a lake of golden water. 
She had no fear of the pestilence ; but an instinctive pru- 
dence made her hold herself aloof, now that there was 
nothing more to be done for the sufferer. 

She remained long in prayer, repeating one of those 
litanies which she had learnt in her infancy, and which of 
late had seemed to her to have somewhat too set and me- 
chanical a rhythm. The earnestness and the fervor seemed 
to have gone out of them in somewise since she had come 
to womanhood. The names of the saints her lips invoked 


A Ministering Angel. 89 

were dull and cold, and evolved no image of human or 
superhuman love and power. AYhat need of intercessors 
whose personality was vague and dim, whose earthly his- 
tories were made up of truth so interwoven with fable that 
she scarce dared believe even that which might be true ? 
In the One Crucified was help for all sinners, strong Rock 
of Refuge, gospel and creed, the rule of life here, the 
promise of immortality hereafter. 

The litanies to virgin and saints were said as a duty — a 
part of that implicit obedience which was the groundwork 
of her religion ; and then all the aspirations of her heart, 
her prayers for the sick man yonder, her fears for her 
absent sister, for her father in his foreign wonderings, 
went up in one stream of invocation to Christ, the Redeem- 
er. To Him, and Him alone, the strong flame of faith 
and love rose like the incense upon an altar — the altar of 
a girhs trusting heart. 

She was so lost in meditation that she was unconscious 
of an approaching footstep in the stillness of the deserted 
house till it drew near to the threshold of the sick room. 
The night was close and sultry, and she had left the door 
open, and that slow tread had crossed the threshold by the 
time she rose from her knees. Her heart beat fast, start- 
led by the first human presence which she had known in 
that melancholy place, save the presence of the pest- 
stricken sufferer. 

She found herself face to face with a middle-aged gentle- 
man of medium stature, clad in the sober coloring that 
suggested one of the learned professions. He appeared 
even more startled than Angela at the unexpected vision 
which met his gaze, faintly seen in the dim light. 

There was silence for a few moments, and then the 
stranger saluted the lady with a formal reverence as he 
laid down his gold-handled cane. 

"" Surely, madam, this mansion of my Lord Fareham's 


90 


When The World Was Younger. 


must he enchanted/' he said. "" I left a crowd of atten- 
dants, and the stir of life below and above stairs, only this 
forenoon last past. I find silence and vacancy. That is 
scarce strange in this dejected and unhappy time ; for it 
is but too common a trick of hireling nurses to abandon 
their patients, and for servants to plunder and then desert 
a sick house. But to find an angel where I left a hag ! 
That is the miracle ! And an angel who has brought heal- 
ing, if I mistake not," he added, in a lower voice, bending 
over the sleeper. 

I am no angel, sir, but a weak, erring mortal," answered 
the girl gravely. Tor pity's sake, kind doctor — since I 
doubt not you are my lord's physician — tell me where are 
my dearest sister. Lady Tareham, and her children. Tell 
me the worst, I entreat you ! " 

Sweet lady, there is no ill news to tell. Her ladyship 
and the little ones are safe at my lord's house in Oxford- 
shire, and it is only his lordship yonder who has fallen a 
victim to the contagion. Lady Fareham and her girl and 
boy have not been in London since the plague began to 
rage. My lord had business in the city, and came hither 
alone. He and the young Lord Kochester, who is the 
most audacious infidel this town can show, have been 
bidding defiance to the pestilence, deeming their nobility 
safe from a sickness which has for the most part chosen 
its victims among the vulgar." 

His lordship is very ill, I fear, sir ?" said Angela, in- 
terrogatively. 

I left him at eleven o'clock this morning with but 
scanty hope of finding him alive after sundown. The 
woman I left to nurse him was his house-steward's wife, 
and far above the common kind of plague-nurse. I did 
not think she would turn traitor." 

Her husband has proved a false steward. The house 
has been robbed of plate and valuables, as I believe, from 


A Ministering Angel. 91 

signs I saw below stairs ; and I suppose husband and wife 
went off together. 

Alack, madam, this pestilence has brought into play 
some of the worst attributes of human nature. The tokens 
and loathly boils which break out upon the flesh of the 
plague-stricken are less revolting to humanity than the 
cruelty of those who minister to the sick, and whose only 
desire is to proflt by the miseries that surround them ; 
wretches so vile that they have been known willfully to 
convey the seeds of death from house to house, in order to 
infect the sound, and so enlarge their area of gains. It 
was an artful device of those plunderers to paint the red 
cross on the door, and thus scare away any visitor who 
might have discovered their depredations. But you, mad- 
am, a being so young and fragile, have you no fear of the 
contagion ? 

Nay, sir, I know that I am in God^’s hand. Yonder 
poor gentleman is not the first plague-patient I have 
nursed. There was a nun came from Holland to our con- 
vent at Louvain last year, and had scarce been one night 
in the house before tokens of the pestilence were discov- 
ered upon her. I helped the infirmarian to nurse her, and 
with God^s help we brought her round. My aunt, the 
Keverend Mother, bade me give her the best wine there 
was in the house — strong Spanish wine that a rich mer_ 
chant had given to the convent for the sick — and it was as 
though that good wine drove the poison from her blood. 
She recovered by the grace of God after only a few days’ 
careful nursing. Finding his lordship stricken with such 
great weakness, I ventured to give him a draught of the 
best sack I could find in his cellar.'’^ 

Dear lady, thou art a miracle of good sense and com- 
passionate bounty. I doubt thou hast saved thy sister 
from widow^s weeds,"" said Dr. Hodgkins seated by the bed, 
with his fingers on the patient"s wrist, and his massive 


When The World Was Younger. 


92 

gold watch in the other hand. This sound sleep prom- 
ises well, and the pulse beats somewhat slow and steadier 
than it did this morning. Then the case seemed hopeless, 
and I feared to give wine — though a free use of generous 
wine is my particular treatment — lest it should fly to his 
brain, and disturb his intellectuals at a time when he 
should need all his senses for the final disposition of his 
affairs. Great estates sometimes hang upon the breath of 
a dying man.^^ 

Oh, sir, but your patient ! To save his life, that Avould 
sure be your first and chief est thought.” 

Ay, ay, my pretty miss ; but I had other measures. 
Apollo twangs not ever on the same bow-string. Did my 
sudorific work well, think you ? ” 

^^He was bathed in perspiration when first I found him ; 
but the sweat-drops seemed cold and deadly, as if life it- 
self were being dissolved out of him,” 

Ay, there are cases in which that copious sweat is the 
forerunner of dissolution ; but in others it augurs cure. 
The pent-up poison, which is corrupting the patient’s 
blood, finds a sudden vent, its virulence is diluted, and if 
the end prove fatal, it is that the patient lacks power to 
rally after the ravages of the disease, rather than that the 
poison kills. Was it instantly after that profuse sweat you 
gave him the wine, I wonder ? ” 

It was as speedily as I could procure it from the cellar 
below stairs.” 

^^And that strong wine given in the nick of time, re- 
assembled nature^s scattered forces, and rekindled the 
flame of life. Upon my soul, sweet young lady, I believe 
thou hast saved him ! All the drugs in Bucklersbury 
could do no more. And now tell me what symptoms you 
have noted since you have watched by his bed ; and tell 
me further if you have strength to continue his nurse, 
with such precautions as I shall dictate, and such help as 


A Ministering Angel. 93 

I can send you in the shape of a stout, honest serving- 
wench of mine, and a man to guard the lower part of your 
house, and fetch and carry for you ? 

I Avill do everything you bid me, with all my heart, 
and with such skill as I can command.’^ 

Those delicate fingers were formed to minister to the 
sick. And you will not shrink from loathsome offices — 
from the application of cataplasms, from cleansing foul 
sores ? Those hlains and boils upon that poor body will 
need care for many days to come.'’^ 

I will shrink from nothing that may be needful for his 
benefit. I should love to go on nursing him, were it only 
for my sister^s sake. How sorry she would feel to be so 
far from him, could she hut know of his sickness ! 

Yes, I believe Lady Fareham would be sorry, answered 
the physician with a dry little laugh ; though there are 
not many married ladies about Eowley^s Court of whom I 
would diagnose as much. Not Lady Denham, for instance, 
that handsome, unprincipled houri, married to a septuage- 
narian poet who would rather lock her up in a garret than 
see her shine at Whitehall ; or Lady Castlemaine, whose 
husband has been uncivil enough to show discontent at a 
peerage that was not of his own earnings ; or a dozen others 
I could name, were not such scandals as these Hebrew to 
thine innocent ear." 

^^Nay, sir, my sister has written of court scandal in 
many of her letters, and it has grieved me to think her lot 
should be cast among people of whose reckless doings she 
tells me with a lively wit that makes sin seem something 
less than sin." 

There is no such word as ^ sin ^ in Charles StuarFs 
court, my dear young lady. It is harder to achieve bad 
repute nowadays, than it was once to be thought a saint. 
Existence in this town is a succession of bagatelles. Men^s 
lives and women^s reputations drift down to the bottomless 


94 


When The World Was Younger. 


pit upon a rivulet of epigrams and chansons. You have 
heard of that dance of death, which was one of the nervous 
diseases of the fifteenth century — a malady which, after 
beginning with one lively caperer, would infect a whole 
townspeople, and send an entire population curveting and 
prancing until death stopped them. I sometimes think, 
when I watch the follies of Whitehall, that those graceful 
dancers, sliding upon pointed toe through a coranto, amid 
a blaze of candles and star-shine of diamonds, are capering 
along the same fatal road by which St. Vitus lured his 
votaries to the grave. And then I look at Kowley’s licen- 
tious eye and cynical lip, and think to myself, ^ This man’s 
father perished on the scaffold ; this man’s lovely ances- 
tress paid the penalty of her manifold treacheries after six- 
teen years’ imprisonment ; this man has passed through 
the jaws of death, has left his country a fugitive and a 
pauper, has returned as if by a miracle, carried back to a 
throne upon the hearts of his people ; and behold him now 
— saunterer, sybarite, sensualist — strolling through life, 
without one noble aim or one virtuous instinct ; a king 
who traffics in the pride and honor of his country, and 
would sell her most precious possessions, level her strongest 
defenses, if his cousin and patron t’other side of the Chan- 
nel would but bid high enough.’ But a plague on my 
tongue, dear lady, that it must always be wagging. Not 
one word more, save for instructions.” 

Dr. Hodgkin loved talking even better than he loved a 
fee, and he allowed himself a physician’s license to be 
prosy ; but he now proceeded to give minute directions for 
the treatment of the patient — the poultices and stoups and 
lotions which were to reduce the external indications of the 
contagion, the medicines which were to be given at inter- 
vals during the night. Medicine in those days left very 
little to nature, and if patients perished it was seldom for 
want of drugs and medicaments. 


95 


A Ministering Angel. 

The servant I send yon will bring meat and all needful 
herbs for making a strong broth, with which you will feed 
the patient once an hour. There are many who hold with 
the boiling of gold in such a broth, but I will not enter 
upon the merits of aurum potahile as a fortifiant. I take 
it that in this case you will find beef and mutton serve your 
turn. I shall send you from my own larder as much beef 
as will suffice for to-night^s use, and to-morrow your serv- 
ant must go to the place where the country people sell 
their goods, butchers^ meat, poultry, and garden-stufi ; 
for the hutcher^s shops of London are nearly all closed, 
and people scent contagion in any intercourse with their 
fellow-citizens. You will have therefore to look to the 
country people for your supplies ; but of all this my own 
man will give you information. So now, good-night, 
sweet young lady. It is on the stroke of nine. Before 
eleven you shall have those who will help and ]3rotect you. 
Meanwhile you had best go downstairs with me, and lock 
and bolt the great door leading into the garden, which I 
found ajarri"’ 

There is the door facing the river, too, by which I en- 
tered." 

Ay, that should be barred also. Keep a good heart, 
madam. Before eleven you shall have a sturdy watchman 
on the premises." 

Angela took a lighted candle and followed the physician 
through the great empty rooms, and down the echoing 
staircase, under the ceiling where Jove, with upraised 
goblet drank to his queen, while all the galaxy of the Greek 
pantheon circled his imperial throne. IJpon how many a 
festal procession had those Olympians looked down since 
that famous house-warming, when the colors were fresh 
from the painteris brush, and when the third Lord Fare- 
ham’s friend and gossip. King James, deigned to witness 
the representation of Jonson’s "" Time Vindicated," enacted 


g6 When The World Was Younger. 

by ladies and gentlemen of quality, in the great saloon — a 
performance which, with the banquet and confectionary 
brought from Paris, and the sweet waters which came 
down the room like a shower from heaven,'’^ as one wrote 
who was present at that splendid entertainment, and the 
feux d^artifice on the river, cost his lordship a yearns in- 
come, but stamped him at once a fine gentleman. Had he 
been a trifie handsomer, and somewhat softer of speech, 
that masque and banquet might have placed Richard Revel, 
Baron Fareham, in the front rank of royal favorites ; but 
the Revels were always a black-visaged race, with more 
force than comeliness in their countenances, and more gall 
than honey upon their tongues. 

Upon many a dance and many a feast had those smirk- 
ing deities looked down, and sometimes, too, upon the 
crowd going up a staircase hung with black to the chapelle 
ardente, where the lord of the house lay in state, splendid 
in velvet and ermine and jeweled orders. They had smiled 
their invariable smile on the coffins of little children, 
covered with crimson velvet, emblazoned with arms and 
ciphers, rich and dainty as jewel-caskets, carried away to 
the darkness of the family vault. They had looked on 
bridal trains and Twelfth Uight kings, the frolics of chil- 
dren, the sport of lovers. They had looked before now 
upon the anguish of a plague-stricken city, in that ill- 
omened beginning of the late king^s reign ; but never be- 
fore upon a house given over to rats and solitude. And 
still Apollo twanged his lyre, and Jove held up his goblet, 
as Ganymede hung over him with the golden tankard, and 
all the simpering throng of goddesses fawned upon their 
sovereign ruler, gorgeous in vivid color, as in that upper 
chamber at Florence, in the palace of the Ricardi. 

On either side the staircase gods and demi-gods in marble 
stood pale and solemn in the gloom, like the risen dead — 
Apollo, Diana, Mercury, Venus, Psyche — statues which 


A Ministering Angel- 97 

Lord Fareham had bought in his Italian travels, the spoil 
of Caracalla's Baths and Nero's Golden House. How 
ghastly these triumphs of ancient art looked in the light 
of a single candle ! Angela shivered as she passed them 
on her return journey, after having hade good-night to the 
pleasant old doctor, and barred the two great doors — no 
easy task for feminine hands. There was a bell at each 
door, which rang loud enough to be heard even in Lord 
Fareham's distant chamber. Hr. Hodgkin told her ; so she 
would be duly apprised of the coming of those who were 
to share her watch. 

It was past eleven before the expected succor arrived, 
and in the interval Lord Fareham had awakened once, 
and had swallowed a composing draught, having apparently 
but little consciousness of the hand that administered it. 
At twenty minutes past eleven Angela heard the bell ring, 
and ran blithely down the now familiar staircase to open 
the garden door, outside which she found a middle-aged 
woman and a tall sturdy young man, each carrying a 
bundle. These were the nurse and the watchman sent by 
Hr. Hodgkin. The woman gave Angela a slip of paper 
from the doctor, by way of introduction. 

‘'‘'You will find Bridget Basset a worthy woman, and 
able to turn her hand to anything ; and Thomas Stokes 
is an honest serviceable youth, whom you may trust upon 
the premises, till some of his lordship's servants can be 
sent from Chilton Abbey, where I take it there is a large 
staff." 

It was with an unspeakable relief that Angela welcomed 
these humble friends. The silence of the great empty 
house had been weighing upon her spirits until the sense 
of solitude and helplessness had grown almost unbearable. 
Again and again she had watched Lord Fareham turn his 
feverish head upon his pillow, while his parched lips moved 
in inarticulate mutterings, and she had thought of what 
7 


98 When The World Was Younger. 

she should do if a stronger delirium were to possess him, 
and he were to try and do himself some mischief. If he 
were to start up from his bed and rush through the empty 
rooms, or burst open one of yonder lofty casements and 
fling himself headlong to the terrace below ! She had been 
told of the terrible things that plague-patients had done 
to themselves in their agony ; how they had run naked into 
the streets to perish on the stones of the highway ; how 
they had gashed themselves with knives ; or set fire to their 
bed-clothes, seeking any escape from the agonies of that 
foul disease. She knew that those burning plague-spots, 
which her hands had dressed, must cause a continual tor- 
ment that might wear out the patience of a saint ; and as 
the dark face turned on the tumbled pillow, she saw by the 
clenched teeth and writhing lips, and the convulsive frown 
of the strongly marked brows, that even in delirium the 
sufferer was struggling to restrain all unmanly expression 
of his agony. But now, at least, there would be this 
strong, capable woman to share in the long night watch ; 
and if the sufferer grew desperate there would be three pair 
of hands to protect him from his own fury. 

She made her arrangements promptly and decisively. 
Mrs. Basset was to stay all night with her in the patient's 
chamber, with such needful intervals of rest as each might 
take without leaving the sick-room ; and Stokes was first 
to see to the fastening of the various basement doors, and 
to assure himself that there was no one hidden either in the 
cellars or on the ground floor ; also to examine all upper 
chambers, and lock all doors ; and was then to make him- 
self a bed in a dressing closet adjoining Lord Fareham's 
chamber, and was to lie there in his clothes, ready to help 
at any hour of the night, should help be wanted. 

And so began Angela's first night-watch by the bedside 
of her brother-in-law, the man whom she had pictured to 
herself so vividly as she read of him in her sister's letters. 


Between London And Oxford. 


99 


the unconrtly soldier whose character seemed to stand out 
with a gloomy force from the frivolous intrigues and 
childish vanities of palace and drawing-room. 

Those dark eyes had never looked upon her with the 
light of reason. Would they ever so look ? Would he ever 
be more to her than a plague-stricken sufferer, or was this 
sick-room only the ante-chamber to the grave ? 


CHAPTER VI. 

BETWEEiT LONDON- AXD OXFOKD. 

Three nights and days had gone since Angela first set 
her foot upon the threshold of Eareham House, and in all 
that time she had not once gone out into the great city, 
where dismal silence reigned by day and night, save for the 
hideous cries of the men with the dead-carts, calling to the 
inhabitants of the infected houses to bring out their dead, 
and roaring their awful summons with as automatic mon- 
otony as if they had been hawking some common necessary 
of life — a dismal cry that was but occasionally varied by 
the hollow tones of a Puritan fanatic stalking, gaunt and 
half clad, along the Strand, and shouting some sentence of 
fatal bodement from the Hebrew prophets ; just as before 
the siege of Titus there walked through the streets of J eru- 
salem one who cried, AVoe to the wicked city ! ” and 
whose voice could not be stopped but by death. 

In those three days and nights the foulest symptoms of 
the contagion were subjugated ; and those horrible blains 
and sores which were the most loathsome features of this 
corruption were put in the way of healing. But the 


loo When The World Was Younger. 

ravages of the disease had left the patient in a state of 
weakness which bordered on death ; and his nurses were 
full of apprehension lest the shattered forces of his consti- 
tution should fail even in the hour of recovery. The vio- 
lence of the fever was abated, and the delirium had become 
intermittent, while there were hours in which the sufferer 
was conscious and reasonable, and in those periods of reason 
he would fain have talked with Angela more than her 
anxiety would allow. 

He was full of wonder at her presence in that house ; 
and when he had been told who she was, he wanted to 
know how and why she had come there ; by what happy 
accident, by what interposition of Providence, she had been 
sent to save him from a hideous death. 

I should have died but for you,^^ he said. I should 
have lain here in my corruption, fouler than dead men in 
a charnel-house, till the cart fetched my putrid carcase. I 
should be rotting in one of their plague-pits yonder, behind 
the old Abbey.^^ 

Hay, indeed, my lord, your good physician would have 
discovered your desolate condition, and would have brought 
Mrs. Basset to nurse you."*^ 

He would have been too late ; I was drifting out to the 
dark sea of death. I felt as if the river was bearing me 
so much nearer to that unknown sea with every ripple of 
the hurrying tide. '’Twas your draught of strong wine 
snatched me bact from the cruel river, drew me on to 
terra firma again, renewed my consciousness of manhood, 
and that I was not a weed to be washed away. Oh, that 
wine ! Ye gods what elixir to this parched, bloated, burn- 
ing throat ! Did ever drunkard in all Alsatia snatch such 
fierce joy from a brimmer 

Angela put her fingers on her lip, and with the other 
hand drew the silken coverlet over the sick man^s shoulder. 

^"You are not to talk,^^ she said, "‘^you are to sleep. 


Between London And Oxford. loi 

Slumber is to be your diet and your medicine, after that 
good soup at which you make such a wry face.^^ 

would swallow the stuff were it Locusta’s hell-broth, 
for your sake.'’^ 

You will take it for wisdom^’s sake that you may mend 
speedily, and go home to my sister,^^ said Angela. 

Home, yes ! It will be bliss ineffable to see flowery 
pastures and wooded hills after this pest-haunted town ; 
but oh, Angela, mine angel, why dost thou linger in this 
poisonous chamber, where every breath of mine exhales 
infection ? Why do you not fly while you are still un- 
strickqp ? Truly the plague-flend cometh as a thief in 
the night. To-day you are safe, to-night you may be 
doomed.” 

have no fear, sir. You are not the first patient I 
have nursed.” 

And thou fanciest thyself pestilence-proof ! Sweet 
girl, it may be that the divine lymph which fills those 
azure veins has no affinity with poisons that slay rude 
mortals like myself.” 

^^Will you ever be talking?” she said with grave re- 
proach, and left him to the care of Mrs. Basset, whose 
comfortable and stolid personality did not stimulate his 
imagination. 

She had a strong desire to explore that city of which she 
had yet seen so little, and her patient being now arrived at 
a state of his disorder when it was best for him to be 
tempted to prolonged slumbers by silence and solitude, she 
put on her hood and gloves and went out alone to see the 
horrors of the deserted streets, of which nurse Basset had 
given her so appalling a picture. 

It was four oYlock, and the afternoon was at its hottest ; 
the blue of a cloudless sky was reflected in the blue of the 
silent river where instead of the flotilla of gayly painted 
wherries, the procession of gilded barges, the music and 


102 


When The World Was Younger. 


song, the ceaseless traffic of court and city, there was 
only the faint ripple of the stream, or here and there a 
solitary barque creeping slowly down the tide with ineffect- 
ual sail flapping in the sultry atmosphere. That unusual 
calm which had marked this never-to-be-forgotten year, 
from the beginning of spring, was yet unbroken, and the 
silent city lay like a great ship becalmed on a tropical ocean ; 
the same dead silence ; the same cruel smiling sky above ; 
the same hopeless submission to fate in every soul on 
board that death-ship. How would those poor dying 
creatures, panting out their latest breath in sultry airless 
chambers, have welcomed the rush of rain, the cool freshness 
of a strong wind blowing along those sun-baked streets, 
sweeping away the polluted dust, dispersing noxious 
odors, bringing the pure scents of far-off woodlands, of 
hillside heather and autumn gorse, the sweetness of the 
country across the corruption of the town. But at this 
dreadful season, when storm and rain would have been 
welcomed with passionate thanksgiving, the skies were brass 
and the ground arid and flery as the sands of the Arabian 
desert, while even the grass that grew in the streets, 
where last year multitudinous feet had trodden, sickened 
as it grew, and faded speedily from green to yellow. 

Pausing on the garden terrace to survey the prospect 
before she descended to the street, Angela thought of that 
river as her imagination had depicted it, after reading a 
letter of Hyacinth’s, written so late as last May ; the gay 
processions, the gaudy liveries of watermen and servants, 
the gilded barges, the sound of viol and guitar, the harmony 
of voices in part songs, Go, lovely rose, or, Why so 
pale and wan, fond lover ? ” the beauty and the splendor ; fair 
faces under vast plumed hats, those picturesque hats which 
the maids of honor snatched from each other’s heads with 
merriest laughter, exhanging head-gear here on the royal 
barge, as they did sometimes walking about the great 


Between London And Oxford. 103 

rooms at Whitehall ; the king with his favorites clustered 
round him on the richly carpeted dais in the stern, his cour- 
tiers and his favored mistresses ; haughty Castlemaine, em- 
press regnant over the royal heart, false, dissolute, impudent, 
glorious as Cleopatra at Actium ; the wit and folly and glad- 
ness. All had vanished like the visions of a dreamer ; and 
there remained but this morning city, with its closed win- 
dows and doors, its watchmen guarding the infected houses, 
lest disease and death should hold communion with that 
poor remnant of health and life left in the affected town 
Would that fantastic vision of careless, pleasure-loving mon- 
arch and butterfly court ever he realized again ? Angela 
thought not. It seemed to her serious mind that the glory 
of those wild years since his majesty^s restoration was a 
delusive and pernicious brightness which could never shine 
again. That extravagant splendor, that reckless gayety 
had borne beneath their glittering surface the seeds of 
ruin and death. An angry God had stretched out His 
hand against the wicked city where sin and profaneness 
sat in the high places. If Charles Stuart and his courtiers 
ever came back to London, they would return sobered and 
chastened, taught wisdom by adversity. The Puritan 
spirit would reign once more in the land, and an age of 
penitence and Lenten self-abasement would succeed the 
orgies of the Eestoration ; while the light loves of White- 
hall, the noble ladies, the impudent actresses, would vanish 
into obscurity. Angela^s loyal young heart was full of 
faith in the King. She was ready to believe that his sins 
were the sins of a man whose head had been turned by the 
sudden change from exile to a throne, from poverty to 
wealth, from dependence upon his Bourbon cousin and 
his friends in Holland to the lavish subsidies of a too-indul- 
gent Commons. 

Ko words could paint the desolation which reigned be- 
tween the Strand and Whitechapel in that fatal summer, 


104 When The World Was Younger. 

now drawing towards its melancholy close. More than 
once in her brief pilgrimage Angela drew back, shuddering, 
from the embrasure of a door, or the inlet to some narrow 
alley, at sight of death lying on the threshold, stiff, stark, 
unheeded ; more than once in her progress from the New 
Exchange to St. PauFs she heard the shrill wail of women 
lamenting for a soul just departed. Death was about and 
around her. The great bell of the cathedral tolled with 
an inexorable stroke in the summer stillness, as it had tolled 
every day through those long months of heat and drought 
and ever-growing fear, and ever-thickening graves. 

Eastward there rose the red glare of a great fire, and she 
feared that some of those old wooden houses in the nar- 
rower streets were blazing, but on inquiry of a solitary 
foot passenger, she learnt that this fire was one of many 
which had been burning for three days, at street corners 
and in open spaces, at a great expense of sea coal, with the 
hope of purifying the atmosphere and dispersing poisonous 
gases — but that so far no amelioration had followed upon 
this outlay and labor. She came presently to a junction 
of roads near the Fleet ditch, and saw the huge coal fire 
fiaming with a sickly glare in the sunshine, tended by a 
lean and spectral figure, half-clad and hungry-looking, to 
whom she gave an alms ; and at this juncture of ways a 
great peril awaited her, for there sprang as it were out of 
the very ground, so quickly did they assemble from neigh- 
boring courts and alleys, a throng of mendicants, who clus- 
tered round her, with filthy hands outstretched, and shrill 
voices imploring charity. So wasted were their half -naked 
limbs, so ghastly and livid their countenances, that they 
might have all been plague-patients, and Angela recoiled 
from them in horror. 

Keep your distance, for pity^s sake, good friends, and 
I will give you all the money I carry, she exclaimed, and 
there was something of command in her voice and aspect. 


Between London And Oxford. 105 

as she stood before them, straight and tall, with pale, 
earnest face. 

They fell off a little way, and waited till she scattered 
the contents of her purse — small Flemish coin, upon the 
ground in front of her, where they scrambled for it, snarl- 
ing and scuffling each other like dogs fighting for a bone. 

Hastening her footsteps after the horror of that en- 
counter, she went by Ludgate Hill to the great cathedral, 
keeping carefully to the middle of the street, and glancing 
at the walls and shuttered casements on either side of her, 
recalling that appalling story which the Italian choir-mis- 
tress at the Sacre Ooeur had told her of the great plague in 
Milan. How one morning the walls and doors of many 
houses in the city had been found smeared with some foul 
substance, in great streaks of white and yellow, which was 
believed to be a poisonous compost carrying contagion to 
every creature who touched or went within the influence 
of its mephitic odor ; how this thing had happened not 
once, but many times ; until the Milanese believed that 
Satan himself was the prime mover in this horror, and that 
there were a company of wretches who had sold themselves 
to the devil, and were his servants, and agents, spreading 
disease and death through the city. Strange tales were 
told of those who had seen the foul fiend face to face, and 
had refused his proffered gold. Innocent men were de- 
nounced, and but narrowly escaped being torn limb from 
limb, or trampled to death, under the suspicion of being 
concerned in this anointing of the walls, and even the 
cathedral benches, with plague-poison ; yefc no death, that 
the nun could remember, had ever been traced directly to 
the compost. It was the mysterious terror which struck 
deep into the hearts of a frightened people, so that, at last, 
against his better reason, and at the repeated prayer of his 
flock, the good archbishop allowed the crystal coffin of St. 
Carlo Borromeo to be carried in solemn procession, upon 


io6 When The World Was Younger. 

the shoulders of four cardinals, from end to end of the city 
— on which occasion all Milan crowded into the streets, 
and clustered thick on either side of the pompous train of 
monks and incense-hearers, priests, and acolytes. But soon 
there fell a deeper despair upon the inhabitants of the 
doomed city, for within two days after this solemn carrying 
of the saintly remains, the death-rate had tripled, and there 
was scarce a house in which the contagion had not entered. 
Then it was said that the anointers had been in active work 
in the midst of the crowd, and had been busiest in the 
public squares where the bearers of the crystal coffin halted 
for a space with their sacred load, and where the people 
clustered thickest. The archbishop had foreseen the 
danger of this gathering of the people, many but just re- 
covering from the disease, many infected and unconscious 
of their state ; but his flock saw only the handiwork of the 
flend in this increase of evil. 

In Protestant London there had been less inclination to 
superstition, yet even here a comet which, under ordinary 
circumstances would have appeared but as other comets, 
was thought to wear the shape of the flery sword stretched 
over the city in awful threatening. 

Full of pity and of gravest, saddest thoughts, the lonely 
girl walked through the lonely town to that part of the 
city where the streets were narrowest,. a labyrinth of lanes 
and alleys, with a church-tower or steeple rising up amidst 
the crowded dAvellings at almost every point to which the 
eye looked. Angela wondered at the sight of so many fine 
churches in this heretical land. Many of these city 
churches were left open in this day of wrath, so that un- 
happy souls who had a mind to pray might go in at will, 
and kneel there. Angela peered in at the old church in a 
narrow court, holding the door a little way ajar, and look- 
ing along the cold gray nave. All was gloom and silence, 
save for a monotonous and suppressed murmur of one in- 


Between London And Oxford. 107 

visible worshiper in a pew near the altar, who varied his 
supplicatory mutterings with long-drawn sighs. 

Angela turned with a shudder from the cold emptiness 
of the great gray church, with its somber woodwork, and 
lack of all those beautiful forms which appeal to the heart 
and imagination in a Eomanist temple. She thought how 
in Flanders there would have been tapers burning, and 
censers swinging, and the rolling thunder of the organ 
pealing along the vaulted roof in the solemn strains of a 
Dies Irae, lifting the soul of the worshiper into the 
far-off heaven of the world beyond death, soothing the 
sorrowful heart with visions of immortal life. 

She wandered through the maze of streets and lanes, 
sometimes coming back unawares to a street she had lately 
traversed, till at last she came to a church that was not 
silent, for through the open door she heard a voice within 
preaching or praying. She hesitated for a few minutes on 
the threshold, having been taught that it was a sin to 
enter a Protestant temple ; and then something within her, 
some new sense of independence and revolt against old 
traditions, moved her to enter, and take her place quietly 
in one of the curious wooden boxes where the sparse con- 
gregation were seated, listening to a man in a Geneva 
gown, who was preaching in a tall oaken pulpit, sur- 
mounted by a massive sounding-board, and furnished with 
a crimson velvet cushion, which the preacher used with 
great effect during his discourse, now folding his arms upon 
it and leaning forward to argue familiarly with his flock, 
now stretching a long lean arm above it to point a denounc- 
ing finger at the sinners below, anon belaboring it severely 
in the passion of his eloquence. 

The flock was small, but devout, consisting for the most 
part of middle-aged and elderly persons in somber attire, 
and of puritanical aspect, for the preacher was one of those 
Calvinistic clergy of Oromwelhs time, who had been lately 


loB When The World Was Younger. 

evicted from their pulpits, and prosecuted for assembling 
congregations under the roofs of private citizens, and who 
had shown a noble perseverance in serving God under cir- 
cumstances of peculiar difficulty. And now, though the 
primate had remained at his post unfaltering and unafraid, 
many of the orthodox shepherds had fled and left their 
sheep, being too careful of their own tender persons to 
remain in the plague-stricken town, and minister to the 
sick and dying ; whereupon the evicted clergy had in some 
cases taken possession of the deserted pulpits and the 
silent temples, and were preaching Christ’s Gospel to that 
remnant of the faithful which feared not to assemble in 
the house of God. 

Angela listened to a sermon marked by a rough elo- 
quence which enchained her attention, and moved her 
heart. It was not difficult to utter heart-stirring words, or 
to move the tender breast to pity when the preacher^s theme 
was death ; with all its train of attendant agonies ; its 
partings and farewells ; its awful suddenness, as shown in 
this pestilence, where a young man rejoicing in his health 
and strength at noontide, sees, as the sun slopes westward, 
the death tokens on his bosom, and is lying dumb and 
stark at nightfall ; where the happy maiden is surprised 
in the midst of her mirth by the apparition of the plague- 
spot, and in a few hours is lifeless clay. The preacher 
dwelt upon the sins and follies and vanities of the in- 
habitants of that great city ; their alacrity in the pursuit 
of pleasure ; their slackness in the service of God. 

A man, who will give twenty shillings for a pair of 
laced gloves to a pretty shopwoman at the New Exchange, 
will grudge a crown for the maintenance of God^s people 
that are in distress ; and one who is not hardy enough to 
walk half a mile to church, will stand for a whole after- 
noon in the pit of a theater, to see painted women-actors 
defile a stage that was evil enough in the late king^s time. 


Between London And Oxford. 


109 

but which has in these later days sunk to a depth of in- 
famy that it befits not me to speak of in this holy place. 
Oh, my brethren, out of that glittering dream which you 
have dreamt since his majesty's return, out of the groves 
of Baal, where you have sung and danced, and feasted, 
worshiping false gods, steeping your benighted souls in 
the vices of pagans and image-worshipers, it has pleased 
the God of Israel to give you a rough waking. Can you 
doubt that this plague which has desolated a city, and 
filled many a yawning pit with the promiscuous dead, has 
been God's way of chastening a profligate people, a people 
caring only for fieshly pleasures, for rich meats and strong 
wines, for fine clothing and jovial company, and despising 
the spiritual blessings that the Almighty Father has reserved 
for them that love Him ? Oh, my afflicted brethren, be- 
think you that this pestilence is a chastisement upon a 
blind and foolish people, and if it strikes the innocent as 
well as the guilty, if it falls as heavily upon the spotless 
virgin as upon the hoary sinner, that it is not for us to 
measure the workings of Omnipotence with the fathom- 
line of our earthly intellects ; or to say this fair girl should 
be spared, and that hoary sinner taken. Has not the 
Angel of Heath even chosen the fairest blossoms ? His 
business is to people the skies rather than to depopulate 
the earth. The innocent are taken, but the warning is 
for the guilty ; for the sinners whose debaucheries have 
made this world so polluted a place that God's greatest 
mercy to the pure is an early death. The call is loud and 
instant, a call to repentance and sacrifice. Let each bear 
his portion of suffering with patience, as under that wise 
rule of a score years past each family forewent a weekly 
meal to help those who needed bread. Let each acknowl- 
edge his debt to God, and be content to have paid it in a 
season of universal sorrow." 

And then the preacher turned from that awful image of 


110 When The World Was Younger. 

an angry and avenging God to contemplate divine com- 
passion in the Eedeemer of mankind — godlike power join- 
ed with human love. He preached of Christ the Saviour 
with a fullness and a force which were new to Angela. He 
held up that commanding, that touching image unobscured 
by any other personality. All those surrounding figures 
which Angela had seen crowded around the godlike form, 
all those sufferings and virtues of the spotless mother of 
God were ignored in that impassioned oration. The 
preacher held up Christ crucified. Him only, as the fountain 
of pity and pardon. He reduced Christianity to its 
simplest elements, primitive as when the memory of the 
God-man was yet fresh in the minds of those who had seen 
the divine countenance and listened to the divine voice ; 
and Angela felt as she had never felt before the singleness 
and purity of the Christianas faith. 

It was the day of hour-long sermons, when a preacher 
who measured his discourse by the sands of an hour-glass 
was deemed moderate. Among the Nonconformists there 
were those who turned the glass, and let the fiood of elo- 
quence flow on far into the second hour. The old man had 
been preaching a long time when Angela awoke as from 
a dream and remembered that sick chamber where duty 
called her. She left the church quietly and hurried west- 
ward, guided chiefly by the sun, till she found herself once 
more in the Strand ; and very soon afterwards she was 
ringing the bell at the chief entrance of Fareham House. 
She returned far more depressed in spirits than she went 
out, for all the horror of the plague-stricken city was upon 
her ; and, fresh from the spectacle of death, she felt less 
hopeful of Lord Fareham^s recovery. 

Thomas Stokes opened the great door to admit that one 
modest figure, a door which looked as if it should open 
only to noble visitors, to a procession of courtiers and court 
beauties, in the fitful light of wind-blown torches. 


Between London And Oxford. ill 

Thomas, when interrogated, was not cheerful in his ac- 
count of the patient’s health during Angela’s absence. 
My lord had been strangely disordered : Mrs. Basset had 
found the fever increasing, and was afeared the gentleman 
was relapsing. 

Angela’s heart sickened at the thought. The preacher 
had dwelt on the sudden alterations of the disease, how 
apparent recovery was sometimes the precursor of death. 
She hurried up the stairs, and through the seemingly end- 
less suite of rooms which nobody wanted, which never might 
be inhabited again perhaps, except by bats and owls, to his 
lordship’s chamber, and found him sitting up in bed, with 
his eyes fixed on the door by which she entered. 

At last ! ” he cried. Why did you inflict such tortur- 
ing apprehensions upon me ? This woman has been tell- 
ing me of the horrors of the streets where you have been ; 
and I figured you stricken suddenly with this foul malady, 
creeping into some deserted alley to expire uncared for, 
dying with your head upon a stone, lying there to be car- 
ried off by the dead-cart. You must not leave this house 
again, save for the coach that shall carry you to Oxford- 
shire to join Hyacinth and her children — and that coach 
shall start to-morrow. I am a madman to have let you 
stay so long in this infected house.” 

""You forget that I am plague-proof,” she answered, 
throwing off hood and cloak, and going to his bedside, to 
the chair in which she had spent many hours watching by 
him and praying for him. 

Ho, there was no relapse. He had only been restless 
and uneasy because of her absence. The disease was con- 
quered, the pest-spots were healing fairly, and his nurses 
had only to contend against the weakness and depression 
which seemed but the natural sequence of the malady. 

Dr. Hodgkin was satisfied with his patient’s progress. 
He had written to Lady Fareham, advising her to send 


112 When The World Was Younger. 

some of her servants with horses for his lordship^s coach, 
and to provide for relays of post-horses between London 
and Oxfordshire, a matter of easier accomplishment than 
it would have been in the earlier summer, when all the 
quality were flying to the country, and post-horses were at 
a premium. Now there were but few people of rank or 
standing who had the courage to stay in town, like the 
Archbishop, who had not left Lambeth, or the stout old 
Duke of Albemarle, at the cock-pit, who feared the pesti- 
lence no more than he feared sword or cannon. 

Two of his lordship^s lackeys, and his Oxfordshire major- 
domo, and clerk of the kitchen, arrived a week after 
Angela^s landing, bringing loving letters from Hyacinth to 
her husband and sister. The physician had so written as 
not to warn the wife. She had been told that her husband 
had been ill, but was in a fair way to recovery, and would 
post to Oxfordshire as soon as he was strong enough for the 
journey, carrying his sister-in-law with him, and lying at 
the accustomed inn at High Wickham, or perchance rest- 
ing two nights and spending three days upon the road. 

That was a happy day for Angela when her patient was 
well enough to start on his journey. She had been long- 
ing to see her sister and the children, longing still more 
intensely to escape from the horror of that house, where 
death had seemed to lie in ambush behind the tapestry 
hangings, and where few of her hours had been free from 
a great fear. Even while Fareham was on the high-road 
to recovery there had been in her mind the ever present 
dread of a relapse. She rejoiced in fear and trembling, 
and was almost afraid to believe physician and nurse when 
they assured her that all danger was over. 

The pestilence had passed by, and they went out in the 
sunshine, in the freshness of a September morning, balmy, 
yet cool, with a scent of flowers from the gardens of Lam- 
beth and Bankside blowing across the river. Even this 


Between London And Oxford. 1 13 

terrible London^, the forsaken city^ looked fair in the 
morning light ; her palaces and churches, her streets of 
heavily timbered houses, their projecting windows, en- 
riched with carved wood and wrought iron — streets that 
recalled the days of the Tudors, and even suggested an 
earlier and rougher age, when the Trench king rode in all 
honor, albeit a prisoner, at his conquerors side ; or later, 
when fallen Richard, shorn of all royal dignity, rode abject 
and forlorn through the city, and caps were flung up for 
his usurping cousin. But oh, the horror of closed shops 
and deserted houses, and pestiferous wretches running by 
the coach door in their poisonous rags, begging alms, 
whenever the horses went slowly, in those narrow streets 
that lay between Fareham House and Westminster. 

To Angela^s wondering eyes Westminster Hall and the 
Abbey offered a new idea of magnificence, so grandly 
placed, so dignified in their isolation. Fareham watched 
her eager countenance as the great family coach, which 
had been sent up from Oxfordshire for his accommodation, 
moved ponderously westward, past the Chancellors new 
palace and other new mansions, to the Hercules^ Pillars 
Inn, past Knightsbridge and Kensington, and then north- 
ward by rustic lanes and through the village of Ealing to 
the Oxford road. 

The family coach was almost as big as a house, and 
afforded ample room for the convalescent to recline at his 
ease on one seat, while Angela and the steward, a confiden- 
tial servant with the manners of a courtier, sat side hy 
side upon the other. 

They had the two spaniels with them. Puck and Gany- 
mede, silky-haired little beasts, black and tan, with bulging 
foreheads, crowded with intellect, pug noses so short as 
hardly to count for nose, goggle eyes that expressed shrewd- 
ness, greediness, and affection. Puck snuggled cosily in 
the soft laces of his lordship^s skirt ; Ganymede sat and 
8 


114 When The World Was Younger. 

blinked at the sunshine from Angela^s lap. Both snarled 
at Mr. Manningtree, the steward, and resented the slightest 
familiarity on his part. 

Lord Fareham^s thoughtful face brightened with its 
rare smile — half-amused, half cynical — as he watched 
Angela^’s eager looks, devouring every object on the road. 

Those grave eyes look at our London grandeurs with 
a meek wonder, something as thy namesake an angel might 
look upon the splendors of Babylon. You can remember 
nothing of yonder palace, or senate house, or Abbey, I 
think, child ? 

Yes, I remember the Abbey, though it looked different 
then. I saw it through a cloud of falling snow. It was 
all faint and dim there. There were soldiers in the streets, 
and it was bitter cold ; and my father sat in the coach 
with his elbows on his knees and his face hidden in his 
hands. And when I spoke to him, and tried to pull his 
hands away — ^for I was afraid of that hidden face — he 
shook me off and groaned aloud. Oh, such a harrowing 
groan ! I should have thought him mad had I known 
what madness meant ; but I know not what I thought. I 
remember only that I was frightened. And later, when I 
asked him why he was sorry, he said it was for the king.^^ 

Ay, poor king ! We have all supped full of sorrow 
for his sake. W e have cursed and hated his enemies, and 
drawn and quartered their vile carcasses, and have dug them 
out of the darkness where the worms were eating them. 
We have been distraught with indignation, cruel in our 
fury ; and I look back to-day, after fifteen years, and see 
but too clearly how that Charles StuarFs death lies at one 
man’s door.” 

At Cromwell’s ? At Bradshaw’s ? ” 

^"No, child; at his own. Cromwell would have never 
been heard of save, in Huntingdon Market-place, as a God- 
fearing yeoman, had Charles been strong and true. The 


Between London And Oxford. 115 

king^s weakness was Cromwell^s opportunity. He dug his 
own grave with false promises, with shilly-shally, with an 
inimitable talent for always doing the wrong thing and 
choosing the wrong road. Open not so wide those re- 
proachful eyes. Oh, I grant you, he was a noble king, a 
king of kings, to walk in a royal procession, to sit upon a 
dais under a velvet-and-gold canopy, to receive ambassadors, 
and patronize foreign painters, and fulfill all that is splen- 
did and stately in ideal kingship. He was an adoring 
husband — confiding to simplicity — a kind father, a fond 
friend, though never a firm one.^^ 

Oh, surely, surely you loved him ? 

Hot as your father loved him, for I never suffered with 
him. It was those who sacrificed the most who loved him 
best, those who were with him to the end, long after com- 
mon sense told them his cause was hopeless ; indeed I be- 
lieve my father knew as much at Hottingham, when that 
luckless flag was blown down in the tempest. Those who 
starved for him, and lay out on barren moors through the 
cold English nights for him, and wore their clothes thread- 
bare and their shoes into holes for him, and left wife and 
children, and melted their silver and squandered their gold 
for him. Those are the men who loved his memory dearest, 
and for whose poor sakes we of the younger generation 
must make believe to think him a saint and a martyr. 

Oh, my lord, say not that you think him a bad man ! ” 

Bad ! Hay, I believe that all his instincts were vir- 
tuous and honorable, and that — until the whirlwind of 
those latter days in which he scarce knew what he was 
doing — he meant fairly and well by his people, and had 
their welfare at heart. He might have done far better for 
himself and others had he been a brave bad man like Went- 
worth — audacious, unscrupulous, driving straight to a 
fixed goal. Ho, Angela, he was that which is worse for 
mankind — an obstinate, weak man, a bundle of impulses. 


Ii6 When The World Was Younger. 

some good and some evil ; a man who had many chances, 
and lost them all ; who loved foolishly and too well, and 
let himself be ruled by a wife who could not rule herself. 
Blind impulse, passionate folly were sailing the State ship 
through that sea of troubles which could be crossed but 
by a navigator as politic, profound, and crafty as Kiche- 
lieu or Mazarin. Who can wonder that the royal Charles 
went down ? 

It must seem strange to you, looking back from the 
Court, as Hyacinth’s letters have painted it — to that time 
of trouble ? 

Strange ! I stand in the crowd at Whitehall sometimes, 
amidst their masking and folly, their frolic schemes, their 
malice, their jeering wit and riotous merriment, and won- 
der whether it is all a dream, and I shall wake and see the 
England of ^44, the year Henrietta Maria vanished — a dis- 
crowned fugitive from the scene where she had lived but 
to do harm. I look along the perspective of painted faces 
and flowing hair, jewels and gay colors, towards that win- 
dow through which Charles the First walked to his bloody 
death, suffered with a kingly grandeur that made the 
world forget all that was poor and petty in his life, and I 
wonder does anyone else recall that suffering or reflect upon 
that doom. Hot one ! Each has his jest, and his mis- 
tress, the eyes he worships, the lips he adores. It is only 
the rural put that feels himself lost in the crowd whose 
thoughts turn sadly to the sad past.'’^ 

Yet whatever your lordship may say 

Tush, child, I am no lordship to you ! Call me brother, 
or Fareham ; and never talk to me as if I were anything 
else than your brother in affection.” 

^‘^It is sweet to hear you say so much, sir,” she answered, 
gently. I have often envied my companions at the Hrsu- 
lines when they talked of their brothers. It was so strange 
to hear them tell of bickering and ill-will between brother 


Between London And Oxford. 117 

and sister. Had God given me a brother, I would not 
quarrel with him.^^ 

^^Hor shalt thou quarrel with me, sweetheart; but we 
will be fast friends always. Do I not owe thee my life ? 

I will not hear you say that ; it is blasphemy against 
your Creator, who relented and spared you. 

What ! you think that Omnipotence in the inaccessible 
mystery of heaven, keeps the muster-roll of earth open be- 
fore Him, and reckons each little life as it drops off the 
list ? That is hardly my notion of divinity. I see the Al- 
mighty rather as the Roman poet saw Him — an inexorable 
Father, hurling the thunderbolt our folly has deserved from 
His right red hand, yet merciful to stay that hand when 
we have taken our punishment meekly. That, Angela, is 
the nearest my mind can reach to the idea of a personal 
God. But do not bend those penciled brows with such a 
sad perplexity. You know, doubtless, that I come of a 
Catholic family, and was bred in the old faith ; but I have 
conformed ill to church discipline. I am no theologian, 
nor quite an infidel, and should be as much at sea in an 
argument with Hobbes as with Bossuet. Trouble not thy 
gentle spirit for my sins of thought or deed. Your tender 
care has given me time to repent all my errors. You were 
going to tell my lordship something, when I chid you for 
excess of ceremony 

^‘'Hay, sir — brother, I had but to say that this wicked 
court, of which my father and you have spoken so ill, 
can scarcely fail to be turned from its sins by so terrible 
a visitation. Those who have looked upon the city as I 
saw it a week ago can scarce return with unchastened 
hearts to feasting and dancing and idle company.” 

But the beaux and belles of Whitehall have not seen the 
city as my brave girl saw it,” cried Fareham. They have 
not met the dead-cart, or heard the groans of the dying, 
or seen the red cross upon the doors. They made off at 


ii8 When The World Was Younger. 

the first rumor of peril. The roads were crowded with 
their coaches, fcheir saddle-horses, their furniture and 
finery ; one could scarce command a post-horse for love or 
money. They fied as fast as Israel out of Egypt, and they 
have been at Hampton, and Salisbury, and Oxford, dancing 
and junketing, flirting and spending, and waiting for the 
poisoned cloud to pass, and the fiery sword to be sheathed, 
in order to come back to the Park, and the Exchange, and 
the Piazza, Spring Oarden, and Colby^s, and all the haunts 
that frolic and extravagance have invented for the waste 
of money, time, and health. The story of the great plague 
will be as old a tale as the death of Pharaoh^s first-born. I 
have heard my father tell of the pestilence in ^25, and how 
in ’26 everybody had forgotten all about it. You see, it is 
the common folk mostly who are taken, and it is but the 
number in the weekly bill ot mortality that appalls the 
gentry. ^ A thousand less this week,^ says one. ^ We may 
be going back to town, and have the theaters open again 
in the cold weather.'’ 

They dined at the Crown, at Uxbridge, which was that 
^^fair house at the end of the town,'’-’ provided for the 
meeting of the late king'’s commissioners, with the repre- 
sentatives of the Parliament in the year '’44, and Fareham 
showed his sister-in-law a spacious paneled parlor, which 
was that ‘'‘^fair room in the middle of the house,'’'’ that had 
been handsomely dressed up for the commissioners to sit in. 

They pushed on to High Wickham before nightfall, and 
supped tete-a-tete in the best room of the inn, with Fare- 
ham^s faithful Manningtree to bring in the chief dish, and 
the people of the house to wait upon them. They were 
very friendly and happy together. Fareham telling his 
companion much of his adventurous life in France, and 
how in the first Fronde war he had been on the side of 
queen and minister, and afterwards, for love and admira- 
tion of Conde, had joined the party of the Princes. 


Between London And Oxford. 119 

Well, it was a time worth living in — a good education 
for a hoy-king, for it showed him that the hereditary ruler 
of a great nation has something more to do than to be born, 
and to exist, and to spend money. 

Lord Fareham described the shining lights of that bril- 
liant court with a caustic tongue, but he was more indul- 
gent to the follies of the Palais Royal and the Louvre than 
he had been to Whitehall frolics. 

There is a grace even in their vices,” he said. 

Their wit is lighter, and there is more mind in their 
follies. Our mirth is vulgar even when it is not bestial. 
I know of no Parisian adventure so degrading as certain 
pranks of BuckhursPs which I would not dare mention in 
your hearing. We imitate them and out-hero them, but are 
never like them. We send to Paris for our clothes, and 
borrow their newest words — for they are ever inventing 
some cant phrase to startle dullness — and we make our 
language a foreign farrago. Why, here is even plain John 
Evelyn, that most pious of pedants, pleading for the en- 
listment of a troop of Gallic substantives and adjectives to 
eke out our native English.” 

Fareham told her much of his past life during the free- 
dom of that long tete-d-tete, talking to her as if she had 
indeed been a young sister from whom he had been separated 
since her childhood. That gentle pensive manner promised 
sympathy and understanding, and he unconsciously in- 
clined to confide his thoughts and opinions to her, as well 
as the history of his youth. 

He had fought at Edgehill as a lad of thirteen, had been 
with the king at Beverley, York, and Nottingham, and 
had only left the court to accompany the Prince of Wales 
to Jersey, and afterwards to Paris. 

I soon sickened of a court life, and its petty plots and 
parlor intrigues,” he told Angela, and was glad to join 
Conde's army, where my fathers influence got me a cap- 


120 When The World Was Younger. 

taincy before I was eighteen. To fight under such a 
leader as that was to serve under the god of war. I can 
imagine Mars himself no grander soldier. Oh, my dear, 
what a man ! JSTay. I will not call him by that common name. 
He was something more or less than man — of another species. 
In the thick of the fight, a lion ; in his dominion over 
armies, in his calmness amidst danger, a god. Shall I ever 
see it again, I wonder — that vulture face, those eyes that 
flashed J ove’s red lightning ? ” 

‘^‘^Your own face changes as you speak of him, said 
Angela, awe-stricken at that fierce energy which heroic 
memories evoked in Fareham^s wasted countenance. 

^‘^Nay, you should have seen the change in his face 
when he flung off the courtier for the captain ! His whole 
being was transformed. Those who knew Oonde at Saint 
Germain, at the Hotel de Rambouillet, at the Palais Koyal, 
knew not the measure or the might of that great nature. 
He was born to conquer ; but you must not think that with 
him victory meant brute force ; it meant thought and 
patience, the power to foresee, to combine, the rapid ap- 
prehension of opposing circumstances, the just measure of 
his own materials. A strict disciplinarian, a severe master, 
but willing to work at the lowest details, the humblest 
offices of war. A soldier, did I say ? He was the genius 
of modern warfare. 

You talk as if you loved him dearly. 

I loved him as I shall never love any other man. He 
was my friend as well as my general. But I claim no 
merit in loving one whom all the world honored. Could 
you have seen princes and nobles, as I saw them when I 
was a boy in Paris, standing on chairs, on tables, kneeling, 
to drink his health ! A demi-god could have received no 
more ardent homage. Alas, sister, I look back at those 
years of foreign service and know they were the best of my 
Ufe!’^ 


Between London And Oxford. 12 1 

They started early next morning, and were within half a 
dozen miles of Oxford before the sun was low. They drove 
by a level road that skirted the river : and now, for the 
first time, Angela saw that river flowing placidly through 
a rural landscape, the rich green of marshy meadows in 
the fore-ground, and low wooded hills on the opposite 
bank, while midway across the stream an islet covered 
with reed and willow cast a shadow over the rosy water 
painted by the western sun. 

Are we near them now ? ” she asked eagerly, knowing 
that her brother-in-laws’s mansion lay within a few miles of 
Oxford. 

^AVe are very near,” answered Fareham ; can see 
the chimneys and the white stone pillars of the great 
gate.” 

He had his head out of the carriage, looking sunward, 
shading his eyes with his big doe-skin gantlet as he looked. 
Those two days on the road, the fresh autumn air, the 
generous diet, the variety and movement of the journey, 
had made a new man of him. Lean and gaunt he must 
needs be for some time to come ; but the dark face was 
no longer bloodless ; the eyes had the fire of health. 

I see the gate — and there is more than that in view !” 
he cried excitedly. A^our sister is coming in a troop to 
meet us, with her children, and visitors, and servants. 
Stop the coach, Manningtree, and let us out.” 

The postboys pulled up their horses, and the steward 
opened the coach door, and assisted his master to alight. 
FarehanFs footsteps were somewhat uncertain as he walked 
slowly along the waste grass by the roadside, leaning a 
little upon Angela’s shoulder. 

Lady Fareham came running towards them in advance 
of children and friends, an airy figure in blue and white, 
her fair hair flying in the wind, her arms stretched out as 
if to greet them from afar. She clasped her sister to her 


122 When The World Was Younger. 

breast even before she sainted her husband, clasped her 
and kissed her, laughing between the kisses. 

Welcome, my escaped nun,^^ she cried. I never 
thought they would let thee out of thy prison, or that thou 
wouldst muster courage to break thy bonds. W elcome, and 
a hundred times welcome. And that thou shouldst have 
saved my lord’s life ! Oh, the wonder of it ! While I, 
within a hundred miles of him, knew not that he was ill, 
here didst thou come across seas to save him ! Why, ’tis a 
modern fairy tale.” 

And she is the good fairy,” said Fareham, taking his 
wife’s face between his two hands and bending down to 
kiss the white forehead under its cloud of pale golden curls, 
and you must cherish her for all the rest of your life. 
But for her I should have died alone in that great gaudy 
house, and the rats would have eaten me, and then perhaps 
you would have cared no longer for the mansion, and 
would have had to build another further west, by my Lord 
Clarendon’s, where all the fine folks are going, and that 
would have been a pity. 

Oh, Fareham, do you begin with thy irony-stop ! I 
know all your organ tones, from the tenor of your kindness 
to the bourdon of your displeasure. Do you think I am not 
glad to have you here safe and sound. Do you think I 
have not been miserable about you since I knew of your 
sickness ? Monsieur de Malfort will tell you whether I 
have been unhappy or not.” 

‘‘ Why, Malfort ! What wind blew you hither at this 
perilous season, when Englishmen are going abroad for 
fear of the pestilence, and when your friend St. Evremond 
had fied from the beauties of Oxford to the malodorous 
sewers and fusty fraus of the Netherlands ? ” 

I had no fear of the contagion, and I wanted to see my 
friends. I am in lodgings in Oxford, where there is almost 
9-s much good company as there ever was at Whitehall,” 


Between London And Oxford. 123 

The Marquis de Malfort and Fareham clasped hands 
with a cordiality which bespoke old friendship^ and it was 
only an instinctive recoil on the part of the Englishman 
which spared him his friend’s kisses. They had lived in 
camps and in court together, these two, and had much in 
common, and much that was antagonistic in temperament 
and habits. Malfort, lazy and luxurious, when there was 
no fighting on hand ; a man whose one business, when not 
under canvas, was, to surpass everybody else in the fashion 
and folly of the hour, to be quite the finest gentleman in 
whatever company he found himself. 

He was a godson and favorite of Madame de Montrond, 
who had numbered his father among the army of her 
devoted admirers. He had been Hyacinth’s playfellow and 
slave in her early girlhood, and had been I’ami de la 
maison in those brilliant years of the young king’s reign, 
when theFarehams were living in the Marais. To him had 
been permitted all privileges that a being as harmless and 
innocent as he was polished and elegant might be allowed 
by a husband who had too much confidence in his wife’s 
virtue, and too good an opinion of his own merits to be 
easily jealous. FToy was Henri de Malfort a man to provoke 
jealousy by any superior gifts of mind or person. Nature 
had not been especially kind to him. His features were 
insignificant, his eyes pale, and he had not escaped that 
scourge of the seventeenth century, the smallpox. His 
pale and clear complexion was but slightly pitted, however, 
and his eyelids had not suffered. Men were inclined to 
call him ugly ; women thought him interesting. His frame 
was badly built from the athlete’s point of view ; but it 
had the suppleness which makes the graceful dancer, and 
was an elegant scaffolding on which to hang the picturesque 
costume of the day. For the rest, all that he was he had 
made himself, during those eighteen years of intelligent 
self culture, which had been his engrossing occupation 


124 When The World Was Younger. 

since his fifteenth birthday, when he determined to be one 
of the finest gentlemen of his epoch. 

A fine gentleman at the court of Louis had to be some- 
thing more than a figure steeped in perfumes and hung 
with ribbons. His red-heeled shoes, his periwig and can- 
non sleeves were indispensable to fashion, but not enough 
for fame. The favored guest of the Hotel de Eambouillet, 
and of Mademoiselle de Scudery^s Saturdays,^'’ must have 
wit and learning, or at least that capacity for smart speech 
and pedantic allusions which might pass current for both, 
in a society where the critics were chiefiy feminine. Henri 
de Malfort had graduated in a college of blue stockings. 
He had grown up in an atmosphere of gunpowder and 

bouts rimes. He had stormed the breach at sieges, 
where the assault was led off by a company of violins, in 
the Spanish fashion. He had fought with distinction under 
the finest soldiers in Europe, and had seen some of his 
dearest friends expire at his side. 

Unlike Grammont and St. Evremond, he was still in the 
fioodtide of royal favor in his own country, and it seemed a 
curious caprice that had led him to follow those gentle- 
men to England, to shine in a duller society, and sparkle 
at a less magnificent court. 

The children hung upon their father, Papillon on one 
side, Cupid on the other, and it was in them rather than in 
her sistePs friend that Angela was interested. The girl 
resembled her mother only in the grace and flexibility of 
her slender form, the quickness of her movements, and the 
vivacity of her speech. Her hair and eyes were dark, like 
her fathers, and her coloring was that of a brunette, with 
something of a pale bronze under the delicate carmine of 
her cheeks. The boy favored his mother, and was worthy 
of the sobriquet Eochester had bestowed upon him. His 
blue eyes, chubby cheeks, cherry lips, and golden hair, 
were like the typical Cupid of Eubens, and might be seen 


Between London And Oxiford. I25 

repeated ad libitum on the ceiling of the Banqueting 
House. 

I"*!! warrant this is all flummery/^ said Fareham^, look- 
ing down at the girl as she hung upon him. Thou art 
not glad to see me.^'’ 

am so glad that I could eat you, as the giant would 
have eaten Jack/^ answered the girl, leaping up to kiss 
him, her hair flying back like a dark cloud, her active legs 
struggling for freedom in her long brocade petticoat. 

And you are not afraid of the contagion 
Afraid ! Why I wanted mother to take me to you as 
soon as I heard you were ill.^^ 

Well, I have been smoke-dried and pickled in strong 
waters, until Dr. Hodgkin accounts me safe, or I would 
not come nigh thee. See, sweetheart, this is your aunt, 
whom you are to love next best to your mother.^^ 

But not so well as you, sir. You are flrst,^^ said the 
child, and then turned to Angela and held up her rosebud 
mouth to be kissed. ""You saved my fathers life, she 
said. "" If you ever want anybody to die for you let it be 
me.'’^ 

"" Gud ! what a delicate wit. The sweet child is posi- 
tively tuant,"” exclaimed a young lady, who was strolling 
beside them, and whom Lady Fareham had not taken the 
trouble to introduce by name to any one, but who was now 
accounted for as a country neighbor, Mrs. Dorothy Lett- 
some. 

Angela was watching her brother-in-law as they sauntered 
along, and she saw that the fatigue and agitation of this 
meeting were beginning to aflect him. He was carrying 
his hat in one hand, while the other caressed Papillon. 
There were beads of perspiration on his forehead, and his 
steps began to drag a little. Happily the coach had kept 
a few paces in their rear, and Manningtree was walking 
beside it ; so Angela proposed that his lordship should 


126 


When The World Was Younger. 


resume his seat in the vehicle- and drive on to his house, 
while she went on foot with her sister. 

“I must go with his lordship,” cried Papillon, and 
leapt into the coach before her father. 

Hyacinth put her arm through Angolans and led her 
slowly along the grassy walk to the great gates, the French- 
man and Mrs. Lettsome following, and unversed as the con- 
vent-bred girl was to the ways of this particular world, she 
could nevertheless perceive that in the conversation between 
these two, M. de Malfort was amusing himself at the ex- 
pense of his fair companion. . His own English was by no 
means despicable, as he had spent more than a year at the 
Embassy immediately after the Eestoration, to say nothing 
of his constant intercourse with the Earehams and other 
English exiles in France ; but he was encouraging the young 
lady to talk to him in French, which was spoken with an 
affected drawl, that was even more ridiculous than its 
errors in grammar. 


CHAPTEE VII. 

AT THE TOP OF THE FASHIOH. 

Nothing could have been more cordial than Lady Fare- 
ham^s welcome to her sister, nor were it easy to imagine a 
life more delightful than the life at Chilton Abbey in that 
autumnal season, when every stage of the decaying year 
clothed itself with a variety and brilliancy of coloring which 
made ruin beautiful, and disguised the approach of winter, 
as a court harridan might hide age and wrinkles under a 
yellow satin mask and a flame-colored domino. The abbey 
was one of those capacious, irregular buildings in which all 


12 / 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 

that a house was in the past and that it is in the present 
are composed into a harmonious whole, and in which past 
and present are so cunningly interwoven that it would have 
been difficult for any one but an architect to distinguish 
where the improvements and additions of yesterday were 
grafted on to the masonry of the fourteenth century. 
Here where the spacious plate-room and pantry began 
there where walls massive enough for the immuring of re- 
fractory nuns, and this corkscrew Jacobean staircase, which 
wound with carved balusters up to the garret story, had 
its foundations in a flight of Cyclopean stone steps that 
descended to the cellars, where the monks kept their strong 
liquors and brewed their beer. Half of my lady^s drawing- 
room had been the refectory, and the long dining-parlor 
still showed the groined roof of an ancient cloister, while 
the music-room into which it opened had been designed 
by Inigo Jones, and built by the last Lord Fareham. All 
that there is of the romantic in this kind of architectural 
patchwork had been enhanced by the collection of old fur- 
niture that the present possessors of the Abbey had im- 
ported from Lady Farehanfls chateau in ISTormandy, and 
which was more interesting though less splendid than the 
furniture of Fareham^s town mansion, as it was the result 
of gradual accumulation in the IMontrond family, or of 
purchases from the wreck of noble houses, ruined in the 
civil war which had distracted France before the reign of 
the Bearnais. 

To Angela the change from an enclosed convent to such 
a house as Chilton Abbey was a change that filled all her 
days with wonder. The splendor, the air of careless luxury 
that pervaded her sisteFs house, and suggested costliness 
and waste in every detail, could hut be distressing to the 
pupil of Flemish nuns, who had seen even the trenchers 
scraped together to make soup for the poor, and every 
morsel of bread garnered as if it were gold dust. From 


128 When The World Was Younger. 

that sparse fare of the convent to this Rabelaisian plenty, 
this plethora of meat and poultry, huge game pies and 
elaborate confectionery, this perpetual too much of every- 
thing, was a transition that startled and shocked her. She 
heard with wonder of the numerous dinner tables that 
were spread every day at Chilton. Mr. Manningtree^'s 
table, at which the Roman priest from Oxford dined, ex- 
cept on those rare occasions when he was invited to sit 
down with the quality, and Mrs. Hubbock's table, where 
the superior servants dined, and at which Henriette^s danc- 
ing-master considered it a privilege to over-eat himself, 
and the two great tables in the servants^ hall, twenty at 
each table ; and the gouvernante, Mrs. Priscilla Good- 
man’s table in the blue parlor upstairs, at which my lady’s 
English and French waiting- women, and my lord’s gentle- 
man ate, and at which Henriette and her brother were sup- 
posed to take their meals ; but where they seldom appeared, 
usually claiming the right to eat with their parents. She 
wondered as she heard of the fine-drawn distinctions among 
that rabble of servants, the upper ranks of whom were sup- 
plied by the small gentry — of servants who waited upon 
servants, and again other servants who waited on those, 
down to that lowest stratum of kitchen sluts and turnspits, 
who actually made their own beds and scraped their own 
trenches. Everywhere there was lavish expenditure — 
everywhere the abundance which, among that uneducated 
and unthoughtful class, ever degenerates into wanton 
waste. 

It sickened Angela to see the long dining-table loaded, 
day after day, with dishes that were many of them left 
untouched amidst the superabundance, while the massive 
Cromwellian sideboard seemed to need all the thickness of 
its gouty legs to sustain the regalia” of hams and 
tongues, pasties, salads and jellies. And all this time the 

Weekly Gazette” from London told of the unexampled 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 129 

distress in that afflicted city, which was but the natural 
result of an epidemic that had driven all the well-to-do 
away, and left neither trade nor employment for the lower 
classes. 

'‘'What becomes of that mountain of food?^’ Angela 
asked her sister, after her second dinner at Chilton, by 
which time she and Hyacinth had become familiar and at 
ease with each other. " Is it given to the poor 

" Some of it, perhaps, love ; but Idl warrant that most 
of it is eaten in the offices — with many a handsome sirloin 
and haunch to boot. 

" Oh, sister, it is dreadful to think of such a troop ! I 
am always meeting strange faces. How many servants have 
you ?” 

"I have never reckoned them. Manningtree knows, no 
doubt ; for his wages book would tell him. I take it 
there may be more than fifty, and less than a hundred. 
Anyhow, we could not exist were they fewer. 

" More than fifty people to wait upon four 
" For our state and importance, cherie, we are very ill- 
waited upon. I nearly died last week before I could get 
any one to bring me my afternoon chocolate. The men 
had all rushed off to a bull-baiting, and the women were 
romping or fighting in the laundry, except my own women, 
who are too genteel to play with the under-servants, and 
had taken a holiday to go and see a tragedy at Oxford. 
I found myself in a deserted house. I might have been 
burnt alive, or have expired in a fit for aught any of those 
over-fed devils cared. 

" But could they not be better regulated 
" They are when Manningtree is at home. He has 
them all under his thumb.'’'’ 

" And is he an honest, conscientious man 
" Who knows ? I dare say he robs us, and takes a ' pot 
de vin wherever Tis offered. But it is better to be robbed 
9 


130 When The World Was Younger. 

by one than by an army, and if Manningtree keeps others 
from cheating he is worth his wages. 

And you, dear Hyacinth, do you keep no accounts 
Keep accounts ! why, my dearest simpleton, did you 
ever hear of a woman of quality keeping accounts — unless 
it were some lunatic universal genius like her Grace of 
Newcastle, who rises in the middle of the night to scribble 
verses, and who might do anything preposterous. Keep 
accounts ! Why if you was to tell me that two and two make 
five I couldn^t controvert you, from my own knowledge.^'’ 
It all seems so strange, to me,^^ murmured Angela. 

My aunt supervised all the expenditure of the convent, 
and was unhappy if she discovered waste in the smallest 
item.^^ 

Unhappy ! Yes, my dear innocent. And do you 
think if I were to investigate the cost of kitchen and cellar, 
and calculate how many pounds of meat each of our tall 
lackeys consumes per diem, I should not speedily be plagued 
into gray hairs and wrinkles ? I hope we are rich enough 
to support their wastefulness, and if we are not — why, 

^ vogue la galere ^ — when we are ruined the king must do 
something for Fareham — make him Lord Chancellor. 
His majesty is mighty sick of poor old Clarendon and his 
lectures. Fareham has a long head, and would do as well 
as anybody else for chancellor if he would but show him- 
self at court oftener, and conform to the fashion of the 
time, instead of holding himself aloof, with a puritanical 
disdain for amusements and people that please his betters. 
He has taken a leaf out of Lord Southampton's book, and 
would not allow me to return a visit Lady Castlemaine 
paid me the other day, in the utmost friendliness, and to 
slight her is the quickest way to offend his majesty.'’" 

But, sister, you would not consort with an infamous 
woman ? "" 

Infamous ! Who told you she is infamous ? Your 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 131 

innocency should be ignorant of such trumpery tittle-tattle. 
And one can be civil without consorting, as you call it."’"’ 

Angela took her sisteFs reckless speech for mere sport- 
iveness. Hyacinth might be careless and ignorant of 
business, but his lordship doubtless knew the extent of his 
income, and was too grave and experienced a personage to 
be a spendthrift. He had confessed to seven and thirty, 
which to the girl of twenty seemed serious middle-age. 

There were musicians in her ladyship^s household — youths 
who played lute and viol, and sang the dainty meaningless 
songs of the latest ballad-mongers very prettily. The warm 
weather, which had a bad effect upon the bills of mortality, 
was so far advantageous that it allowed these gentlemen to 
sing in the garden while the family were at supper, or on 
the river while the family were taking their evening airing. 
Their newest performance was an arrangement of Lord 
Dorset’s lines — To all you ladies now on land,” set as a 
round. There could scarcely be anything prettier than the 
dying fall of the refrain that ended every verse — 

“ With a fa, la, la, 

Perhaps permit some happier man 
To kiss your hand, or flirt your fan. 

With a fa, la, la.” 

The last lines died away in the distance of the moonlit 
garden, as the singers slowly retired, while Henri de Malfort 
illustrated that final couplet with Hyacinth’s fan, as he sat 
beside her. 

Music, and moonlight, and a garden. You might 
fancy yourself amidst the grottoes and terraces of Saint 
Germain.” 

"" I note that whenever there is anything meritorious in 
our English life Malfort is reminded of France, and when 
he discovers any obnoxious feature in our manners or habits, 
he expatiates on the vast difference between the two 
nations,’' said his lordship. 


132 When The World Was Younger. 

^^Dear Fareham, I am a human being. When I am in 
England I remember all I loved in my own country. I 
must return to it before I shall understand the worth of 
all I leave here, and the understanding may be bitter. 
Call your singers back, and let us have those two last verses 
again. '’Tis a fine tune, and your fellows perform it with 
sweetness and brio.^^ 

The song was new. The victory which it celebrated 
was fresh in the minds of men. The disgrace of later 
Dutch experiences — the ships in the Nore, ravaging and 
insulting — was yet to come. England still believed her 
fioating castles invincible. 

To Angela^s mind, the life at Chilton was full of change 
and joyous expectancy. No hour of the day but offered 
some variety of recreation, from battledore and shuttlecock 
in the plaisance to long days with the hounds or the hawks. 
Angela learnt to ride in less than a month, instructed by 
the stud-groom, a gentleman of considerable importance 
in the household ; an old campaigner, who had a groomed 
Fareham^s horses after many a battle, and many a skirmish, 
and had suffered scant food and rough quarters without 
murmuring ; and also with considerable assistance and 
counsel from Lord Fareham, and occasional lectures from 
Fapillon, who was a Diana at ten years old, and rode with 
her father in the first flight. Angela was soon equal to 
accompanying her sister in the hunting-field, for Hyacinth 
was following the chase after the French, rather than the 
English fashion, affecting no ruder sport than to wait at 
an opening of the wood, or on the crest of a common to 
see hounds and riders sweep by ; or, favored by chance 
now and then, to signal the villain’s whereabouts by a lace 
handkerchief waved high above her head. This was how 
a beautiful lady who had hunted in the forests of Saint 
Germain and Fontainebleau understood sport, and such 
performance as this Angela found easy and agreeable, 


33 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 

They had many cavaliers who came to talk with them for 
a few minutes, to tell them what was doing or not doing 
yonder where the hounds were hidden in thicket or coppice ; 
but Henri de Malfort was their most constant attendant. 
He rarely left them, and dawdled through the earlier half 
of an October day, walking his horse from point to point, 
or dismounting at sheltered corners to stand and talk at 
Lady Fareham^s side, with a patience that made Angela 
wonder at the contrast between English headlong eager- 
ness, crashing and splashing through hedge and brook 
and French indifference. 

have not Fareham’s passion for mud,^^ he explained 
to her, when she remarked upon his lack of interest in the 
chase, even when the music of the hounds was ringing 
through wood and valley, now close beside them, anon 
melting in the distance, thin in the thin air. It he 
comes not home at dark plastered with mire from boots to 
eyebrows he will cry, like Alexander, I have lost a day.^ 

Partridge hawking in the wide fields between Chilton 
and Hettlebed was more to MalforFs taste, and it was a 
sport for which Lady Fareham expressed a certain enthu- 
siasm, for which she attired herself to the perfection of 
picturesque costume. Her hunting-coats were marvels of 
embroidery on atlas and smooth cloth ; but her smartest 
velvet and brocade she kept for the sunny mornings when 
with hooded peregrin on wrist she sallied forth intent on 
slaughter, Angela, Papillon, and De Malfort for her cortege, 
an easy-paced horse to amble over the grass with her, and 
the Dutch falconer to tell her the right moment at which 
to slip her falcon^s hood. 

The nuns at the IJrsuline Convent would scarcely have 
recognized their quondam pupil in the girl on the gray 
palfrey, whose hair flew loose under a beaver hat, mingling 
its tresses with the long ostrich plume, whose trimly fitting 
jacket a masculine air which only accentuated tho 


134 When The World Was Younger. 

womanliness of the fair face above it, and whose complex- 
ion, somewhat too colorless within the convent walls, now 
glowed with a carnation that brightened and darkened the 
large gray eyes into new beauty. 

That open-air life was a revelation to the cloister-bred 
girl. Could this earth hold greater bliss than to roam at 
large over spacious gardens, to cross the river, sculling her 
boat with strong hands, with her niece Henriette, other- 
wise Papillon, sitting in the stern to steer and scream in- 
structions to the novice in navigation, and then to lose 
themselves in the woods on the further shore, to wander 
in a labyrinth of reddening beeches and oaks, on which 
the thick foliage still kept its dusky green, to emerge upon 
open lawns where the pale gold birches looked like fairy 
trees, and where amber and crimson toad-stools shone like 
jewels on the skirts of the dense undergrowth of holly and 
hawthorn. The liberty of it all, the delicious feeling of 
freedom, the release from convent rules and convent hours, 
bells ringing for chapel, bells ringing for meals, bells ring- 
ing to mark the end of the brief recreation — a perpetual 
ringing and drilling which had made conventual life a 
dull machine working always in the same grooves. 

Oh, this liberty, this variety, this beauty in all things 
around and about her ! How the young glad soul, newly 
escaped from prison, reveled and expatiated in its free- 
dom. Papillon, who, at ten years old, had skimmed the 
cream oft all the simple pleasures, appointed herself her 
aunPs instructress in most things, taught her to ride, with 
the assistance of Paddon, the stud-groom ; taught her to 
row, with some help from Lord Pareham, who was an ex- 
pert waterman, and, at the same time, tried to teach her 
to despise the country, and all rustic pleasures, except 
hunting — although in her inmost heart the minx preferred 
the liberty of Oxfordshire woods to the splendors of Fare- 
Jiam House, where she was cooped in ^ nursery with her 


135 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 

gouvernante for the greater part of her time, and was only 
exhibited like a doll to her mothers fine company, or sat 
upon a cushion to tinkle a saraband and display her pre- 
cocious talent on the guitar, which she played almost as 
badly as Lady Fareham herself, at whose feeble endeavors 
even the courteous De Malfort laughed. 

IS’ever was sister kinder than Hyacinth, impelled by that 
impulsive sweetness which was her chief characteristic, 
and also, it might be, moved to lavish generosity by some 
scruples of conscience with regard to her grandmother^s 
will. Her first business was to send for the best milliner 
in Oxford, a London madam who had followed her court 
customers to the university town, and to order everything 
that was beautiful and seemly for a young person of quality. 

I implore you not to make me too fine, dearest,^^ 
pleaded Angela, who was more horrified at the milliner’s 
painted face and exuberant figure than charmed by the 
contents of the baskets which she had brought with her 
in the spacious leather coach — velvets and brocades, hoods 
and gloves, silk stockings, fans, perfumes and pulvilios, 
sweet-bags and scented boxes — all of which the woman 
spread out upon Lady Fareham’s embroidered satin bed, 
for the young lady’s admiration. ‘‘1 pray you remember 
that I am accustomed to have only two gowns — a black 
and a gray. You will make me afraid of my image in the 

glass if you dress me like — like ” 

She glanced from her sister’s decollete bodice to the far 
more appalling charms of the milliner, which a gauze 
kerchief rather emphasized than concealed, and could find 
no proper conclusion for her sentence. 

""Hay, sweetheart, let not thy modesty take fright. 
Thou shalt be clad as demurely as the nun thou hast 
escaped being — 

‘ And sable stole of Cyprus lawn 
Over thy decent shoulders drawn,’ 


136 When The World Was Younger. 

We will have no blacks, but as much decency as you choose. 
You will mark the distinction between my sister and your 
maids of honor, Mrs. Lewin. She is but a debutante in 
our modish world, and must be dressed as modestly as you 
can contrive, to be consistent with the fashion.” 

Oh, my lady, I catch your ladyship^s meaning, and 
your ladyship^s instructions shall be carried out as far as 
can be without making a savage of the young lady. I 
know what some young ladies are, when they first come to 
court. I had fuss enough with Miss Hamilton before I 
could persuade her to have her bodice cut like a Christian. 
And even the beautiful Misses Brooks were all for high 
tuckers and modesty pieces when I began to make for 
them ; but they soon came round. And now with my Lady 
Denham it is always, ^ Gud, Lewin, do you call that the 
right cut for a bosom ? LTdsbud, woman, you havenT made 
the curve half deep enough.'’ And with my lady Chester- 
field it is, ^ Sure, if they say my legs are thick and ugly, 
ril let them know my shoulders are worth looking at. 
Give me your scissors, creature,'’ and then with her own 
delicate hands she would scoop me a good inch' ofi the 
satin, till I am fit to swoon at seeing the cold steel against 
her milk-white flesh.” 

Mrs. Lewin talked with but little interruption for the 
best part of an hour, while exhibiting the ready-made wares 
she had brought, the greater number of which Hyacinth 
insisted on buying for Angela — who was horrified at the 
slanderous innuendoes that dropped in casual abundance 
from the painted lips of the milliner ; horrified, too, that 
her sister could loll back in her armchair and laugh at 
the woman^s coarse and malignant talk. 

Indeed, sister, you are far too generous, and you have 
overpowered me with gifts,” she said, when the milliner 
had curtsied herself out of the room ; ^‘'for I fear my own 
income will never pay for all these costly things, Three, 


137 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 

pounds^ I think she said, was the price of the Mazarine 
hood alone — and there are stockings and gloves innumer- 
able.^^ 

^^Mon Ange, while you are with me your own income 
is but for charities and veils. I will have it spent for 
nothing else. You know how rich the marquise has made 
me — while I believe Fareham is a kind of modern Croesus, 
though we do not boast of his wealth, for all that is most 
substantial in his fortune comes from his mother, whose 
father was a great merchant trading with Spain and Indies, 
all through James’s reign, and luckier in the hunt for 
gold than poor Ealeigh. Never must you talk to me of 
obligation. Are we not sisters, and was it not a mere 
accident that made me the elder, and Madame de Mon- 
trond’s protege ? 

I have no words to thank you for so much kindness. 
I will only say I am so happy here that I could never have 
believed there was such full content on this sinful earth.” 

Wait till we are in London, Angelique. Here we en- 
dure existence. It is only in London that we live.” 

Nay, I believe the country will always please me 
better than the town. But, sister, do you not hate that 
Mrs. Lewin — that horrid painted face and evil tongue ? ” 

My dearest child, one hates a milliner for the spoiling 
of a bodice or the ill cut of a sleeve — not for her character. 
I believe Mrs. Lewin’s is among the worst, and that she 
has made as many intrigues as Lady Castlemaine. As for 
her painting, doubtless she does that to remind her cus- 
tomers that she sells alabaster powder and ceruse.” 

^^Nay, if she wants to disgust them with painted faces 
she has but to show her own.” 

grant she lays the stuff on badly. I hope, if I live 
to have as many wrinkles, I shall fill them better than she 
does. Yet who can tell what a hideous toad she might be 
in her natural skin ? It may be Christian charity that 


138 When The World Was Younger. 

induces her to paint, and so to spare us the sight of a 
monster. She will make thee a beauty, Ange, be sure of 
that. Tor satin or velvet, birthday or gala gowns, nobody 
can beat her. The wretch has had thousands of my 
money, so I ought to know. But for thy riding-habit, 
and hawking jacket, we want the firmer grip of a man's 
hand. Those must be made by Koget." 

A Frenchman ?" 

^^Yes, child. One only accepts British workmanship 
when a Parisian artist is not to be had. Clever as Lewin 
is, if I want to eclipse my dearest enemy on any special 
occasion I send Manningtree across the Channel, or ask 
De Malfort to let his valet — who spends his life in transit 
like a king's messenger — bring me the latest confection 
from the Kue de Eichelieu." 

What infinite trouble about a gown — and for you who 
would look lovely in anything." 

Tush, child ! You have never seen me in anything. If 
ever you should surprise me in an ill gown you will see how 
much the feathers make the bird. Poets and playwrights 
may pretend to believe that Ave need no embellishment 
from art ; but the very men who write all that romantic 
nonsense are the first to court a well-dressed woman. And 
there are few of them who could calculate with any exact- 
ness the relation of beauty to its surroundings. That is Avhy 
wonen go deep in debt to their milliners, and Avould sooner 
be dead in well-made graveclothes than alive in an old- 
fashioned mantua." 

Angela could not be in her sister's company for a month 
without discovering that Lady Fareham's whole life was 
given up to the worship of the trivial. She was kind, 
she was amiable, generous even to recklessness. She was 
not irreligious, heard Mass and made her confession as 
often as the hard conditions of an alien and jealously 
treated Church would allow; had never disputed the truth 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 139 

of any tenet that was taught her — hut of serious views, of 
an earnest consideration of life and death, husband and 
children. Hyacinth Fareham was as incapable as her ten- 
year-old daughter. Indeed it sometimes seemed to Angela 
that the child had broader and deeper thoughts than the 
mother, and saw her surroundings with a shrewder and 
clearer eye, despite the natural frivolity of childhood, and 
the exuberance of a fine physique. 

It was not for the younger sister to teach the elder, nor 
did Angela deem herself capable of teaching. Her nature 
was thoughtful and earnest ; but she lacked that experience 
of life which can alone give the thinker a broad and philo- 
sophic view of other people^s conduct. She was still far 
from the stage of existence in which to understand all is to 
pardon all. The religion which she had been taught was 
purely formal, a religion of strict observances and renuncia- 
tions, frequent fasting, and continued prayer. It was 
not that simple and broader faith in man^s claim upon 
man which she might have found for herself in the 
Gospel. 

She beheld the life about her with wonder and bewilder- 
ment. It was so pleasant, so full of beauty and variety ; 
yet things were said and done that shocked her. There 
was nothing in her sister^s own behavior to alarm her 
modesty ; but to hear her sister talk of other women’s 
conduct outraged all her ideas of decency and virtue. If 
there were really such wickedness in the world, women so 
shameless and vile, was it right that good women should 
know of them, that pure Iqos should speak of their iniquity ? 

She was still more shocked when Hyacinth talked of 
Lady Castlemaine with a good-humored indulgence. 

There is something fine about her,” Lady Fareham 
said one day, in spite of her tempers and pranks.” 

What,” cried Angela, aghast, having thought these 
creatures unrecognized by any honest woman, do you 


140 When The World Was Younger. 

know her — that Lady Castlemaine of whom you have told 
me such dreadful things ? 

C'est vrai. Ten ai dit des raides. Mon ange, in town 
one must needs know everybody, though I doubt that 
after not returning her visit t'other day I shall be in her 
black books and somebody else's. She has never been one 
of my intimates. If I were often at Whitehall, I should 
have to be friends with her. But Fareham is jealous of 
court influences, and I am only allowed to appear on gala 
nights — perhaps not half a dozen times in a season. There 
is a distinction in not showing one's self often ; but it is 
provoking to hear of the frolics and jollities which go on 
every day and every night, and from which I am banished. 
It mattered little while the queen mother was at Somerset 
House, for her court ranked higher — and was certainly 
more refined in its splendor — than her son's ragamuffin 
circle. But now she is gone, I shall miss our intellectual 
milieu, and wish myself in the Kue St. Thomas du Louvre, 
where the Hotel du Rambouillet, even in its decline, offers 
a finer style of company than anything you will see in 
England ! " 

Sister, I fear you left half your heart in France." 

^‘^Nay, sweet; perhaps some of it has followed me," 
answered Hyacinth, with a blush and an enigmatic smile. 

Peste, I am not a woman to make fuss about hearts ! 
There is not a grain of tragedy in my composition. I am 
like that girl in the play we saw at Oxford t'other day. 
Fletcher's was it, or Shakespere's ? ^ A star danced, and 
under that was I born.' Yes, I was born under a dancing 
star, and I shall never break my heart — for love." 

But you regret Paris ? " 

HMas, Paris means my girlhood ; and were you to take 
me back there to-morrow you could not make me seventeen 
again — and so where's the use ? I should see wrinkles in 
the faces of my friends, and should know that they were 


141 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 

seeing the same ugly lines in mine. Indeed, Ange, I think 
it is my youth I sigh for rather than the friends I lived 
with. They were such merry days : battles and sieges in 
the provinces, parliaments disputing here and there ; 
Conde in and out of prison — now the king^s loyal servant, 
now in arms against him ; swords clashing, cannon roar- 
ing under our very windows, alarm bells pealing, cries of 
fire, barricades in the streets ; and amidst it all, lute 
and theorbo, bout rimes and madrigals, dancing and 
play-acting, and foolish practical jests ! One could not 
take the smallest step in life but one of the wits would 
make a song about it. Oh, it was a boisterous time ! 
And we were all mad, I think ; so lightly did we reckon 
life and death, even when the cannon slew some of our 
noblest, and the finest saloons were hung with black. 
You have done less than live, Angelique, not to have lived 
in that time.'’^ 

Hyacinth loved to ring the changes on her sisteFs name. 
Angela was too English, and sounded too much like the 
name of a nun ; but Angelique suggested one of the most 
enchanting personalities in that brilliant circle on which 
which Lady Eareham so often rhapsodized. This was the 
beautiful Angelique Paulefc whose father invented the tax 
called by his name. La Paulette — a financial measure, 
which was the main cause of the first Fronde war. 

I only knew her when she was between fifty and sixty, 
said Lady Eareham, "" but she hardly looked forty, and 
she was still handsome in spite of her red hair. Trop dYre, 
her admirers called it ; but, my love, it was as red as that 
scullion'^s we saw in the poultry-yard yesterday. She was 
a reigning beauty at three courts, and had a crowd of 
adorers when she was only fourteen. Ah, Papillon, you 
may open your eyes ! What will you be at fourteen ? 
still playing with your babies, or mad about your shock 
dogs, I dare swear ! 


14^ When The World Was Younger. 

I gave my babies to the housekeeper’s granddaughter 
last year/’ said Papillon, much offended, when father 
gave me the peregrine. I only care for live things now I 
am old.” 

And at fourteen thou wilt be an awkward, long-legged 
wench that will frighten away all my admirers, yet not be 
worth the trouble of a compliment on thine own account.” 

I want no such stuff ! ” cried Papillon. ‘^Do you 
think I would like a French fop always at my elbow as 
Monsieur de Malfort is ever at yours. I love hunting 
and hawking, and a man that can ride, and shoot, and 
row, and fight, like father or Sir Denzil Warner — not a 
man who thinks more of his ribbons and periwig and can- 
non sleeves than of killing his fox or flying his falcon.” 

Oh, you are beginning to have opinions,” sighed Hy- 
acinth. ^‘I am, indeed, an old woman ! Go and find 
yourself something to play with, alive or dead. You are 
vastly too clever for my company.” 

I’ll go and saddle Brownie. Will you come for a ride. 
Aunt Angy ? ” 

Yes, dear, if her ladyship does not want me at home,” 
^^Her ladyship knows your heart is in the fields and 
woods. Yes, sweetheart, saddle your pony, and order 
your aunt’s horse and a pair of grooms to take care of 
you.” 

The child ran off rejoicing. 

Precocious little She will pick up all our jargon 

before she is in her teens.” 

Dear sister, if you talk so indiscreetly before her ” 

Indiscreet ! Am I really so indiscreet ? That is Fare- 
ham’s word. I believe I was born so. But I was telling 
you about your namesake. Mademoiselle Paulet. She 
began to reign when Henri was king and no doubt he was 
one of her most ardent admirers. Don’t look frightened ! 
She was always a model of virtue. Mademoiselle Scudery 


143 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 

has devoted pages to painting her perfections under an 
Oriental alias. She sang, she danced, she talked divinely. 
She did everything better than everybody else. Priests 
and bishops praised her. And after changes and losses 
and troubles, she died far from Paris, a spinster, nearly 
sixty years old. It was a paltry finish to a life that began 
in a blaze of glory 


CHAPTEK VIII. 

SUPERIOR TO FASHION. 

At Oxford Angela was so happy as to be presented to 
Catharine of Braganza, a little dark woman, whose attire 
still bore some traces of its original Portuguese heaviness ; 
such a dress — clumsy, ugly, infinitely rich, and expensive 
— as one sees in old portraits of Sjpanish and Netherlandish 
matrons in which every elaborate detail of the costly 
fabric seems to have been devised in the research of ugli- 
ness. She saw the king also ; met him casually — she 
walking with her brother-in-law, while Lady Fareham and 
her friends ran from shop to shop in the High Street — in 
Magdalen College grounds, a group of beauties and a family 
of spaniels, fawning upon him as he sauntered slowly, or 
stopped to feed the swans that swam close by the bank, 
keeping pace with him, and stretching long necks in greedy 
solicitations. 

The loveliest woman Angela had ever seen — tall, built 
like a goddess — walked on the king’s right hand. She 
carried a heap of broken bread in the satin petticoat which 
she held up over one white arm, while with her other hand 
she gave the pieces one by one to the king. Angela saw 
that as each hunch changed hands the royal fingers touched 


144 When The World Was Younger. 

the lady^s tapering finger-tips, and tried to detain them. 
Fareham took off his hat, bowed low in a grave and stately 
salutation, and passed on ; but Charles called him back. 

Nay, Fareham, has the world grown so dull that you 
have nothing to tell us this November morning 

Indeed, sir, I fear that my riverside hermitage can 
afford very little news that could interest your majesty or 
these ladies.” 

A fox gone to ground, an otter killed among your 
reeds, or a hawk in the sullies, is an event in the country. 
Anything would be a relief from the weekly total of Lon- 
don deaths, which is our chief subject of conversation, or 
the general’s complaints that there is no one in town but 
himself to transact business, or dismal prophecies of a 
Nonconformist rebellion that is to follow the Five Mile 
Act.” 

The group of ladies stared at Angela in a smiling silence, 
one haughtier than the rest standing a little aloof. She 
was older, and of a more audacious loveliness than the 
lady who carried broken bread in her petticoat ; but she 
too was splendidly beautiful, as a goddess on a painted 
ceiling, and as much painted perhaps. 

Angela contemplated her with the reverence youth gives 
to consummate beauty, unaware that she was admiring the 
notorious Barbara Palmer. 

Fareham awaited, hat in hand, grave almost to sullenness. 
It was not for him to do more than reply to his majesty’s 
remarks, nor could he retire till dismissed. 

You have a strange face at your side^ man. Pray in- 
troduce the lady ! ” said the King, smiling at Angela, 
whose vivid blush was as fresh as Miss Stewart’s had been 
a year or two ago, before she had her first quarrel with 
Lady Castlemaine, or rode in Grammont’s glass coach, or 
gave her classic profile to embellish the coin of the realm 
— the common drudge ’tween man and man.” 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 145 

I have the honor to present my sister-in-law^, Mistress 
Kirkland, to your majesty. 

The King shook hands with Angela in the easiest way, 
as if he had been mortal. 

Welcome to our poor court. Mistress Kirkland. Your 
father was my father's friend and companion in the evil 
days. They starved together at Beverle}^, and rode side 
by side through the Warwickshire lanes to suffer the inso- 
lence of Coventry. I have not forgotten. If I had I have 
a monitor yonder to remind me," glancing in the direction 
of a middle-aged gentleman, stately, and sober of attire, 
who was walking slowly towards them. “ The Chancellor 
is a living chronicle, and his conversation chiefly consists 
in reminiscences of events I would rather forget." 

Memory is an invention of Old Kick," said Lady Castle- 
maine. Who the deuce wants to remember anything, 
except what cards are out and what are in ? " 

Kot you, fairest. You should be the last to cultivate 
mnemonics for yourself or for your friends. Is your father 
in England, sweet mistress ? " 

Angela faltered a negative, as if with somebody else's 
voice — or so it seemed to her. A swarthy, heavy-browed 
man, wearing a dark-blue ribbon and a star — a man with 
whom his intimates jested in shameless freedom — a man 
whom the town called Eowley, after some ignominious 
quadruped — a man who had distinguished himself neither 
in the field nor in the drawing-room by any excellence 
above the majority, since the wit men praised has resolved 
itself for posterity into half-a-dozen happy replies. Only 
this ; but he was a King, a crowned and anointed King, 
and even Angela, who was less frivolous and shallow than 
most women, stood before him abashed and dazzled. 

His majesty bowed a gracious adieu, yawned, flung an- 
other crust to the swans, and sauntered on, the Stewart 
whispering in his ear, the Castlemaine talking loud to her 

JO 


146 When The World Was Younger. 

neighbor. Lady Chesterfield, this latter lady very pretty, 
very bold and mischievous, newly restored to the Court 
after exile with her jealous husband at his mansion in Wales. 

They were gone ; Charles to be button-holed by Lord 
Clarendon, who waited for him at the end of the walk ; 
the ladies to wander as they pleased till the two-o^clock 
dinner. They were gone, like a dream of beauty and 
splendor, and Fareham and Angela pursued their walk by 
the river, gray in the sunless November. 

Well, sister, you have seen the man whom we brought 
back in a whirlwind of loyalty five years ago, and for whose 
sake we rebuilt the fabric of monarchical government. Do 
you think we are much the gainers by that tempest of en- 
thusiasm which blew us home Charles the Second ? We 
had suffered all the trouble of the change to a republic ; a 
life that should have been sacred had been sacrificed to the 
principles of liberty. While abhorring the regicides, we 
might have profited by their crime. We might have been 
a free state to-day, like the United Provinces. Do you 
think we are better off with a king like Kowley, to amuse 
himself at the expense of the nation ?” 

I detest the idea of a republic.” 

Youth worships the supernatural in anointed kings. 
Think not that I am opposed to a constitutional monarchy, 
so long as it works well for the majority. But when Eng- 
land had with such terrible confusions shaken off all those 
shackles and trappings of royalty, and when the ship, so 
lightened, had sailed so steadily with no ballast but com- 
mon sense, does it not seem almost a pity to undo what has 
been done — to begin again the long procession of good 
kings and bad kings, foolish or wise — for the sake of such 
a man as yonder saunterer,” with a glance towards the 
British sultan and his harem. 

England was never better governed than by Cromwell,” 
he continued. ^ ^ She was tranquil at home and victorious 


147 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 

abroad, admired and feared. Mazarin, while pretending 
to be the faithful friend of Charles, was the obsequious 
courtier of Oliver. The finest form of government is a 
limited despotism. See how France prospered under the 
sagacious tyrant, Louis the Eleventh, under the soldier- 
statesman, Sully, under pure reason incarnate in Richelieu. 
Whether you call your tyrant king or protector, minister 
or president, matters nothing. It is the man and not the 
institution, the mind and not the machinery that is 
wanted.” 

I did not know you were a republican, like Sir Denzil 
Warner.” 

I am nothing now I have left off being a soldier. I 
have no strong opinions about anything. I am a looker 
on ; and life seems little more real to me than a stage play. 
Warner is of a different stamp. He is an enthusiast in 
politics — godson of Hollis — a disciple of Milton^s, the son 
of a Puritan, and a Puritan himself. A fine nature, 
Angela, allied to a handsome presence.” 

Sir Denzil Warner was their neighbor at Chilton, and 
Angela had met him often enough for them to become 
friends. He had ridden by her side with hawk and hound, 
had been one of her instructors in English sport, and had 
sometimes, by an accident, joined her and Henriette in 
their boating expeditions, and helped her to perfect herself 
in the management of a pair of sculls. 

Hyacinth has her fancies about Warner,” Fareham 
said presently, as they strolled along. 

There was a significance in his tone that the girl could 
not mistake, more especially as her sister had not been 
reticent about those notions to which Fareham alluded. 

""Hyacinth has fancies about many things,” she said, 
blushing a little. 

Fareham noted the slightness of the blush. 

"" I verily believe that handsome youth has found you 


148 When The World Was Younger. 

adamant,” he said, after a thoughtful silence. Yet you 
might easily choose a worse suitor. Your sister has often 
the strangest whims about marriage-making ; but in this 
fancy I did not oppose her. It would be a very suitable 
alliance.” 

I hope your lordship does not begin to think me a bur- 
den on your household,” faltered Angela, wounded by his 
cold-blooded air in disposing of her. When you and my 
sister are tired of me I can go back to my convent.” 

What ! return to those imprisoning walls ; immure 
your sweet youth in a cloister ? I^ot for the Indies. I 
would not suffer such a sacrifice. Tired of you ! I — so 
deeply bound ! I who owe you my life ! I who looked up 
out of a burning hell of pain and madness and saw an 
angel standing by my bed ! Tired of you ! Indeed you 
know me better than to think so badly of me were it but in 
one flash of thought. You can need no protestations from 
me. Only, as a young and beautiful woman, living in an 
age that is full of peril for women, I should like to see you 
married to a good and true man — such as Denzil Warner.” 

I am sorry to disappoint you,” Angela answered coldly ; 
but Papillon and I have agreed that I am always to be 
her spinster aunt, and am to keep her house when she is 
married, and wear a linsey gown and a bunch of keys at my 
girdle, like Mrs. Hubbuck, at Chilton.” 

That is just like Henriette. She takes after her mother, 
and thinks that this globe and all the people upon it were 
created principally for her pleasure. The Americans to 
give her chocolate, the Indian isles to sweeten it for her, 
the ocean tides to bring her feathers and finery. She is 
her own center and circumference, like her mother.” 

You should not say such an ill thing of your wife, 
Fareham,” said Angela, deeply shocked. Hyacinth is 
not one to look into the heart of things. She has too 
happy a disposition for grave backward-reaching thoughts ^ 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 149 

but I will swear that she loves you — ay — almost to rever- 
ence.” 

^^Yes to reverence, to overmuch reverence perhaps. 
She might have given a freer, fonder love to a more amia- 
ble man. I have some strain of my unhappy kinsman’s tem- 
per, perhaps — the disposition that keeps a wife at a dis- 
tance. He managed to make three afraid of him, and it 
was darkly rumored that he killed one.” 

Strafford — a murderer ! No, no.” 

Not by intent. An accident — only an accident. They 
who most hated him pretended that he pushed her from 
him somewhat roughly, when she was least able to bear 
roughness, and that the after-consequences of the blow 
were fatal. He was one of the doomed, always, you see. 
He knew that himself, and told his bosom-friend that he 
was not long-lived. The brand of misfortune was upon 
him even at the height of his power. You may read his 
fate in his face.” 

They walked on in silence for some time, Angela de- 
pressed and unhappy. It seemed as if Fareham had lifted 
a mask and shown her his real countenance, with all the 
lines that tell a life history. She had suspected that he 
was not happy ; that the joyous existence amidst fairest 
surroundings which seemed so exquisite to her was dull 
and vapid for him. She could but think that he was like 
her father, and that action and danger were necessary to 
him, and that it was only this rustic tranquillity that 
weighed upon his spirits. 

“^^Do not for a moment believe that I would speak slight- 
ingly of your sister,” Fareham resumed, after that silent 
interval. It were indeed an ill thing in me — most of all 
to disparage her in your hearing. She is lovely, accom- 
plished, learned even, after the fashion of the Kue Saint 
Thomas du Louvre. She used to shine among the bright- 
est at the Scudery’s Saturday parties, which were the most 


150 When The World Was Younger. 

wearisome assemblies I ever ran away from. The match 
was made for ns by others, and I was her betrothed husband 
before I saw her. Yet I loved her at first sight. Who 
could help loving a face as fair as morning over the east- 
ward hills, a voice as sweet as the nightingales in the Tuil- 
eries garden ? She was so young — a child almost ; so gen- 
tle and confiding. And to see her now with Papillon is to 
question which is the younger, mother or daughter. Love 
her ? Why, of course I love her. I loved her then. I 
love her now. Her beauty has but ripened with the pass- 
ing years ; and she has walked the furnace of fine company 
in two cities, and has never been seared by fire. Love her ! 
Could a man help loving beauty, and frankness, and a 
natural innocence which cannot be spoiled even by the 
knowledge of things evil, even by daily contact with sin in 
high places ? ” 

Again there was a silence, and then, in a deeper tone, 
after a long sigh, Fareham said : 

I love and honor my wife, I adore my children ; yet I 
am alone, Angela, and I shall be alone till death. 

I donT understand. 

Oh, yes, you do ; you understand as well as I who suffer. 
My wife and I love each other dearly. If she have a fit of 
the vapors, or an aching tooth, I am wretched. But we 
have never been companions. The things that she loves 
are charmless for me. She is enchanted with people from 
whom I run away. Is it companionship, do you think, for 
me to look on while she walks a coranto or tosses shuttle- 
cocks with De Malfort ? Eoxalana is as much my com- 
panion when I admire her on the stage from my seat. 
There are times when my wife seems no nearer to me than 
a beautiful picture. If I sit in a corner, and listen to her 
pretty babble about the last fan she bought at the Middle 
Exchange, or the last witless comedy she saw at the King’s 
Theatre, is that companionship, think you ? I may be 


At The Top Of The Fashion. 15 1 

charmed to-day — as I was charmed ten years ago — with the 
silvery sweetness of her voice, with the graceful turn of 
her head, the white roundness of her throat. At least I 
am constant. There is no change in her or in me. We 
are just as near and just as far apart as when the priest 
joined our hands at Saint Eustache. And it must be so to 
the end, I suppose : and I think the fault is in me. I am 
out of joint with the world I live in. I cannot set myself 
in tune with their new music. I look back, and remember, 
and regret, yet hardly know why I remember or what I 
regret. 

Again a silence, briefer than the last, and he went on. 

Do you think it strange that I talk so freely — to you 
— who are scarce more than a child, less learned than Hen- 
riette in worldly knowledge ? It is a comfort sometimes 
to talk of one^s-self ; of what one has missed as well as of 
what one has. And you have such an air of being wise 
beyond your years ; wise in all thoughts that are not of 
the world — thoughts of things in which there is no truck 
at the Exchange ; which no one buys or sells at Abingdon 
fair. And you are so near allied to me — a sister ! I never 
had a sister of my own blood, Angela. I was an only child. 
Solitude was my portion. I lived alone with my tutor and 
gouvernante — a poor relation of my mothers — alone in a 
house that was mostly deserted, for Lord and Lady Fareham 
were in London with the King, till the troubles brought 
the Court to Christchurch, and then to Chilton. I have 
had few in whom to confide. And you — remember what you 
have been to me, and do not wonder if I trust you more than 
others. Thou didst go down to the very grave with me, 
didst pluck me out of the pit. Corruption could not touch 
a creature so lovely and so innocent. Thou didst walk un- 
harmed through the charnel house. Remembering this, as 
I ever must remember, can you wonder that you are nearer 
to me thau all the rest of the world ? ” 


152 When The World Was Younger. 

She had seated herself on a bench that commanded a 
view of the river, and her dreaming eyes were looking far 
away along the dim perspective of mist and water, bare 
pollard willows, ragged sedges. Her head drooped a little 
so that he could not see her face, and one ungloved hand 
hung listlessly at her side. 

He bent down to take the slender hand in his, lifted it 
to his lips, and quickly let it go ; but not before she had 
felt his tears upon it. She looked up a few minutes later, 
and the place was empty. Her tears fell thick and fast. 
Never before had she suffered this exquisite pain — sadness 
so intense, yet touching so close on joy. She sat alone in 
the inexpressible melancholy of the late autumn ; pale mists 
rising from the river ; dead leaves falling ; and Fareham^s 
tears upon her hand. 


CHAPTER IX. 

IK A PUEITAK HOUSE. 

How quickly the days passed in that gay household at 
Chilton, and yet every day of Angela^s life held so much 
of action and emotion that, looking back at Christmas- 
time to the three months that had slipped by since she 
had brought Fareham from his sick-bed to his country 
home, she could but experience that common feeling of 
youth in such circumstances. Surely it was half a lifetime 
that had lapsed ; or else she, by some subtle and super- 
natural change, had been made a new woman. 

She thought of her life in the convent, thought of it 
much and deeply on those Sunday mornings when she 
and her sister and De Malfort and a score or so of servants 
crept quietly to a room in the heart of the house, where a 


In A Puritan House. 


153 


priest who had been fetched from Oxford in Lady Pareham^s 
coach, said Mass within locked doors. The familiar words 
of the service, the odor of the incense, brought back the 
old time — the nnf orgotten atmosphere, the dull tranquillity 
of ten years, which had been as one year by reason of 
their level monotony. 

Could she go back to such a life as that ! Go back ? 
Leave all she loved ? Her trembling hand was stretched 
out to clasp her niece Henriette, kneeling beside her. 
Leave them — leave those with whom and for whom she 
lived ? Leave this loving child — her sister — her brother. 
He had told her to call him brother.” He had been to 
her as a brother, with all a brother’s kindness, counselling 
her, confiding in her. 

Only with one person at Chilton Abbey had she ever 
conversed as seriously as with Fareham, and that person 
was Sir Henzil Warner, who at five and twenty was more 
serious in his way of looking at serious things than most 
men of fifty. 

I cannot make a jest of life,” he said once, in reply to 
some fiijDpant speech of He Malfort’s ; it is too painful a 
business for the majority ! ” 

What has that to do with us — the minority ? Can we 
smooth a sick man’s pillow by pulling a long face ? We 
shall do him more good by tossing him a crown if he be 
poor ; or helping to build him a hospital by the sacrifice 
of a night’s winnings at Aubre. Long faces help nobody ; 
that is what you Puritans will never consider.” 

Ho ; but if the long faces are the faces of men who 
think something may come of their thoughts for the good 
of humanity.” 

Henzil Warner was the only person who ever spoke to 
Angela of her religion. With extreme courtesy, and with 
gentle excuses for his temerity in touching on so delicate 
a theme, he ventured to express his abhorrence of the 


154 When The World Was Younger. 

superstition interwoven with the Romanist’s creed. He 
talked as one who had sat at the feet of the blind poet — 
talked sometimes in the very words of John Milton. 

There was much in what he said that appealed to her 
reason, but there was no charm in that severer form of 
worship which he offered in exchange for her own. He 
was frank and generous ; he had a fine nature, but was too 
much given to judging his fellow-men. He had all the 
arrogance of Puritanism superadded to the natural arro- 
gance of youth that has never known humiliating reverses, 
that has never been the servant of circumstance. 

He was Angela’s senior by something less than four 
years, yet it seemed to her that he was in every attribute 
infinitely her superior. In education, in depth of thought, 
in resolution for good, and scorn of evil. If he loved her 
— as Hyacinth insisted upon declaring — there was nothing 
of youthful impetuosity in his passion. He had, indeed, 
betrayed his sentiments by no direct speech. He had told 
her gravely that he was interested in her, and deeply 
concerned that one so worthy and so amiable should have 
been brought up in the house of idolators, should have 
been taught falsehood instead of truth. 

She stood up boldly for the faith of her maternal ancestors. 

^‘^I cannot continue your friend if you speak evil of those 
I love. Sir Henzil,” she said. Could you have seen the 
lives of those good ladies of the IJrsuline Convent, their 
unselfishness, their charity, you must needs have respected 
our religion. I cannot think why you love to say hard 
words of us Catholics ; for in all I have ever heard or 
seen of the lives of the Nonconformists, they approach us 
far more nearly in their principles than the members of 
the Church of England, who, if my sister does not paint 
them with too black a brush, practise their religion with a 
laxity and indifference that would go far to turn religion 
to a jest.” 


In A Puritan House. 


15^ 


Whatever Sir DenziPs ideas might be upon the religious 
question of creed — and he did not scruple to tell Angela 
that he thought every Papist foredoomed to everlasting 
punishment — he showed so much pleasure in her society 
as to be at Chilton Abbey, and the sharer of her walks and 
rides, as often as practicable. Lady Fareham encouraged 
his visits, and was always gracious to him. She discovered 
that he possessed the gift of music, though not in the 
same remarkable degree as Henri de Malforfc, who played 
the guitar exquisitely, and into whose hands you had but 
to put a musical instrument for him to extract sweetness 
from it. Lute or theorbo, viola or viol di gamba, treble 
or bass, came alike to his hand and ear. Some instruments 
he had studied ; with some his skill came only by intuition. 

Denzil Warner performed very creditably upon the 
organ. He had played on John Milton^s organ in St. 
Bride^s church, when he was a boy, and he had played of 
late in the church at Chalfont St. Giles, where he had 
visited Milton frequently, since the poet had left his 
lodgings in Artillery Walk, carrying his family and his 
books to that sequestered village in the shelter of the 
hills between Uxbridge and Beaconsfield. Here from the 
lips of his sometime tutor the Puritan had heard such 
stories of the court as made him hourly expectant of ex- 
terminating fires. Doubtless the fire would have come, as 
it came upon Sodom and Gomorrah, but for those right- 
eous lives of the Nonconformists, which redeem the time ; 
quiet. God-fearing lives in dull old city houses, in streets 
almost as narrow as those which Milton remembered in his 
beloved Italy ; streets where the sun looked in for an hour, 
shooting golden arrows down upon the diamond-paned 
casements, and deepening the shadow of the massive 
timbers that held up the overlapping stories, looked in 
and bade ^^good-nighf within an hour or so, leaving an 
atmosphere of sober gray, cool, and quiet, and dull, in 


156 When The World Was Younger. 

those obscure streets and alleys where the great traffic of 
Cheapside or Ludgate sounded like the murmur of a 
far-off sea. 

Good pious men and women worshiped the stern God 
of the Puritans in the secret chambers of those narrow 
streets, and those who gathered together in these days — if 
they rejected the Liturgy of the Church of England — must 
indeed be few, and must meet by stealth, as if to pray or 
preach after their own manner were a crime. Charles, 
within a year or so of his general amnesty and happy res- 
toration, had made such worship criminal ; and now the 
Five Mile Act, lately passed at Oxford, had rendered the 
restrictions and penalties of nonconformity utterly intol- 
erable. Men were lying in prison here and there about 
merry England for no greater offense than preaching the 
gospel to a handful of God-fearing people. But that a 
Puritan tinker should molder for a dozen years in a damp 
jail could count for little against the blessed fact of the 
May-pole reinstated in the Strand, and five play-houses 
in London performing ribald comedies till the plague shut 
their doors. 

Milton, old and blind, and somewhat soured by domestic 
disappointments, had imparted no optimistic philosophy 
to young Denzil Warner, whose father he had known and 
loved. The fight at Hopton Heath had made Denzil 
fatherless ; the colonel of WarnePs horse riding to his death 
in one of the grandest charges of that memorable day. 

Denzil had grown up under the prosperous rule of the 
Protector, and his boyhood had been spent in the guardian- 
ship of a most watchful and serious-minded mother. He 
had been somewhat over cosseted and apron-stringed it may 
be, in that tranquil atmosphere of the rich widow^s house ; 
but not all Lady WarneFs tenderness could make her son a 
milksop. Except for a period of two years in London, when 
he had lived under the roof of the great republican, and 


in A Puritan House. 


157 


a docile pupil to a stern but kind master, Denzil had lived 
mostly under the open sky, was a keen sportsman, and 
loved the country with almost as sensitive a love as 
his quondam master and present friend, John Milton ; 
and it was perhaps this appreciation of rural beauty which 
had made a bond of friendship between the great poet and 
the Puritan squire. 

You have a knack of painting rural scenes which needs 
but to be joined with the gift of music to make you a 
poet,^^ he said, when Denzil had been expatiating upon 
the landscape amidst which he had enjoyed his last bout 
of falconry, or his last run with his half-dozen couple of 
hounds. ^‘^You are almost as the power of sight to me 
when you describe those downs and valleys whose every 
shape and shadow I once knew so well, Alas, that I 
should be changed so much and they so little ! 

It is one thing to feel that this world is beautiful, and 
another to find golden words, and phrases which to a 
prisoner in the Tower could conjure up as fair a landscape 
as Claude Lorraine ever painted. Those sonorous and melli- 
fluous lines which you were so gracious as to repeat to me, 
forming part of the great epic which the world is waiting 
for, bear witness to the power which can turn words into 
music, and make pictures out of the common tongue. 
That splendid art, sir, is but given to the man in a cent- 
ury — or in several centuries, since I know but Dante and 
Virgil who have ever equaled your vision of heaven and 
hell.^^ 

^^Do not over-praise me, Denzil, in thy charity to 
poverty and affliction. It is pleasing to be understood by 
a youth who loves hawk and hound better than books ; 
for it offers the promises of popular appreciation in years to 
come. Yet the world is so little athirst for my epic that 
I doubt if I shall find a bookseller to give me a few pounds 
for the right to print a work that has cost me years of 


158 When The World Was Younger. 

thought and laborious revision. But at least it has been 
my consolation in the long blank night of my decay, and 
has saved me many a heartache, for while I am build- 
ing up my verses, and engraving line after line upon the 
tablets of memory, I can forget that I am blind, and poor, 
and neglected, and the dear saint I loved was snatched 
from me in the noontide of our happiness.” 

Denzil talked much of John Milton in his conversations 
with Angela, during those rides or rambles, in which 
Papillon was their only companion. Lady Fareham saun- 
tered, like her royal master, but she rarely walked a mile 
at a stretch ; and she was pleased to encourage the rural 
wanderings that brought her sister and Warner into a 
closer intimacy, and promised well for the success of her 
matrimonial scheme. 

I believe they adore each other already,” she told Fare- 
ham one morning, standing by his side in the great stone 
porch, to watch those three youthful figures ride away, 
aunt and niece side by side, on palfrey and pony, with 
Denzil for their cavalier. 

You are always over-quick to be sure of anything that 
fulfills your own fancy, dearest,” answered Fareham, watch- 
ing them to the curve of the avenue ; but I see no signs 
of favor to that solemn youth in your sister. She suffers 
his attentions out of pure civility. He is an accomplished 
horseman, having given all his life to learning how to 
jump a fence gracefully, and his company is at least better 
than a groom^s.” 

How scornfully you jeer at him.” 

Oh, I have no more scorn than the CavalieFs natural 
contempt for the Eoundhead. A hereditary hatred per- 
haps.” 

^^You say such hard things of his majesty that one 
might often take you to be of Sir DenziFs way of think- 
ing.” 


In A Puritan House* 


159 


I never think about the king. I only wonder. I may 
sometimes express my wondermeni too freely for a loyal 
subject.” 

I cannot vouch for Angela, hut I will wager that he is 
deep in love,” persisted Hyacinth. 

Have it your own way, sweetheart. He is dull enough 
to be deep in debt or love, or politics, anything dismal and 
troublesome,” answered his lordship, as he strolled off with 
his spaniels ; not those dainty toy dogs which had been 
his companions at the gate of death, but the fine liver-and- 
black shooting dogs that lived in the kennels, and thought 
it doghood^s highest privilege to attend their lord in his 
walks, whether with or without a gun. 

His lordship kept open Christmas that year at Chilton 
Abbey, and there was much festivity, chiefly devised and 
carried out by the household, as Fareham and his wife 
were too much of the modern fashion, and too cosmopolitan 
in their ideas to appreciate the fuss and feasting of an 
English Christmas. They submitted, however, to the 
festival as arranged for them by Mr. Manningtree and Mrs. 
Hubbuck — the copious feasting for servants and depend- 
ants, the mummers and carol-singers, the garlands and 
greenery which disguised the fine old tapestry, and made a 
bower of the vaulted hall. Everything was done with a 
lavish plenteousness, and no doubt the household enjoyed 
the fun and feasting all the more because of that dismal 
season of a few years back, when all Christmas ceremonies 
had been denounced as idolatrous, and when the members 
of the Anglican Church had assembled for their Christmas 
service secretly in private houses, and as much under the 
ban of the law as the Nonconformists were now. 

Angela was interested in everything in that bright world 
where all things were new. The children piping Christ- 
mas hymns in the clear cold morning enchanted her. She 


i6o When The World Was Voungef. 

ran down to kiss and fondle the smaller among them, and 
finding them thinly clad promised to make them warm 
cloaks and hoods as fast as her fingers could sew. Denzil 
found her there in the wide snowy space before the 
porch, prattling with the children, bareheaded, her soft 
brown hair blown about in the wind ; and he was moved, 
as a man must needs be moved by the aspect of the woman 
that he loves caressing a small child, melted almost to 
tears by the thought that in some blessed time to come she 
might so caress, only more warmly, a child whose existence 
should be their bond of union. 

And yet, being both shy and somewhat cold of tempera- 
ment, he restrained himself and greeted her only as a 
friend ; for his mother^s influence was holding him back, 
urging him not to marry a Papist, were she never so lovely 
or lovable. 

He had known Angela for nearly three months, and his 
acquaintance with her had reached this point of intimacy, 
yet Lady Warner had never seen her. This fact distressed 
him, and he had tried hard to awaken his mothers in- 
terests by praises of the Fareham family, and of Angela^s 
exquisite character ; but the scarlet specter came between 
the Puritan lady and the house of Fareham. 

There is nothing you can tell me about this girl, upon 
whom I fear you have foolishly set your affection, which 
can make me forget that she has been nursed and swaddled 
in the bondage of a corrupt church, taught to worship 
idols, and to cherish lying traditions, while the light of 
God’s holy word has been made dark for her.” 

She is young enough to embrace a purer creed, and to 
walk by the clearer light that leads your footsteps, mother. 
If she were my wife I should not despair of winning her to 
think as we do.” 

And in all the length of England was there no young 
woman of right principles fit to be thy wife that thou 


In A Puritan House. l6i 

must needs fall into a snare of the first Popish witch who 
set her lure for thee ? 

Popish witch ! Oh, mother, how ill you can conceive 
the image of my dear love, who has no witchcraft hut 
beauty, no charm so potent as her truth and innocency.” 

I know them — these children of the scarlet woman — 
and I know their works, and the fate of those who trust 
them. The late king — weak and stubborn as he was — 
might have been alive this day, and reigning over a con- 
tented people, but for that fair witch who ruled him. 
It was the Frenchwoman's sorceries that wrought Charleses 
ruin.” 

If thou wouldst but see my Angela,” pleaded the son 
with a caressing arm about his mothers spare shoulders. 

Thine ! What ! is she thine — pledged and promised 
already ? Then indeed these white hairs will go down 
with sorrowing to the grave.” 

Mother, I doubt if thou couldst find so much as a single 
gray hair in that comely head of thine,” said the son ; and 
the mother smiled in the midst of her affliction. ^^And 
as for promise — there has been none. I have said no woM 
of love ; nor have I been encouraged to speak by any token 
of liking on the lady^'s part. I stand aloof and admire, and 
wonder at so much modesty and intelligence inLadyFare- 
ham^s sister. Let me bring her to see you, mother ? ” 
‘^^This is your house, Denzil. Were you to fill it with 
the sons and daughters of Belial, I could but pray that your 
eyes might be opened to their iniquity. I could not shut 
these doors against you or your companions. But I want 
no Popish women here.” 

Ah, you do not know ! Wait until you have seen her,” 
urged Denzil, with the loveFs confidence in the omnipotence 
of hir mistresses charms. 

And now on this Christmas Day there came the op- 
portunity Denzil had been waiting for. The weather was 


i 62 When The World Was Younger. 

cold and bright, the landscape was blotted out with snow ; 
and the lake in Chilton Park offered a sound surface for 
the exercise of that novel amusement of skating, an accomp- 
lishment which Lord Fareham had acquired while in the 
Low Countries, and in which he had been DenziPs in- 
structor during the late severe weather. Angela, at her 
brother-in-law’s entreaty, had also adventured herself upon 
a pair of skates, and had speedily found delight in the swift 
motion which seemed to her like the flight of a bird skim- 
ming the steely surface of the frozen lake, and incompar- 
able in enjoyment. 

It is even more delightful than a gallop on Zephyr,” 
she told her sister, who stood on the bank with a cluster 
of gay company, watching the skaters. 

I doubt not that, since there is even more danger of get- 
ting your neck broken upon runaway skates than on a run- 
away horse,” answered Hyacinth. 

After an hour on the lake, in which Denzil had distin- 
guished himself by his mastery of the new exercise, being 
always at hand to support his mistress at the slightest 
indication of peril, she consented to the removal of her 
skates, at Papillon’s earnest entreaty, who wanted her 
aunt to walk with her before dinner. After dinner there 
would be the swift-corning December twilight, and Christ- 
mas games, snap-dragon and the like, which Papillon, al- 
though a little flne lady, reproducing all her mother’s likes 
and dislikes in miniature, could not, as a human child, 
altogether disregard. 

I don’t care about such nonsense as George does,” she 
told her aunt, with condescending reference to her brother : 
^^but I like to see the others amused. Those village 
children are such funny little savages. They stick their 
Angers in their mouths and grin at me, and call me ^ Your 
annar,’ or ^ Your worship,’ and say ^ Anan’ to everything. 
They are like Audrey in the play you read to me.” 


In A Puritan House. 


163 

Denzil was in attendance upon aunt and niece. 

If you want to come with us, you must invent a pretty 
walk. Sir Denzil/^ said Papillon. am tired of long 
lanes and ploughed fields. 

1 know of one of the pleasantest rambles in the shire — 
across the woods to the Grange. And we can rest there 
for half an hour, if Miss Angela will allow us, and take a 
light refreshment.^^ 

^‘'Dear Sir Denzil, that is the very tiling,^'’ answered 
Papillon, breathlessly ; I am dying of hunger. And I 
don^t want you to go back to the Abbey. Will there be 
any cakes or mince pies at the Grange ? 

Cakes in plenty, but I fear there will be no mince pies. 
My mother does not love Christmas dainties.” 

Henriette wanted to know why. She was always want- 
ing the reason of things. A bright inquiring little mind, 
perpetually on the alert for novelty : an imitative brain 
like a monkey s ; hands and feet that know not rest ; and 
there you have the Honorable Henrietta Maria Kevel, 
alias Papillon. 

They crossed the river, Angela and Denzil each taking 
an oar, while Papillon pretended to steer, a process which 
she effected chiefly by screaming. 

Another lump of ice !” she shrieked. We shall be 
swamped. I believe the river will be frozen before Twelfth 
Night, and we shall be able to dance upon it. We must 
have bonfires and roast an ox for the poor people. Mrs. Hub- 
buck told me they roasted an ox the year King Charles was 
beheaded. Horrid brutes — to think that they could eat at 
such a time ! If they had been sorry they would not have 
wanted beef.” 

Hadley Grange, commonly known as the Grange, was in 
every detail the antithesis of Chilton Abbey. At the Ab- 
bey the eye was dazzled, the mind was bewildered, by an 
excess of splendor— an overmuch of everything gorgeous 


164 When The World Was Younger. 

or beautiful. At the Grange sight and mind were rested 
by the low tone of color, the Quaker-like precision of form. 
All the furniture in the house was Elizabethan, plain, pon- 
derous, the conscientious work of Oxfordshire mechanics. 
On one side of the house there was a bowling green, on 
the other a physic garden, where odors of medicinal 
herbs, chamomile, fennel, rosemary, rue, hung ever on the 
surrounding air. There was nothing modern in Lady 
Warner^s house but the spotless cleanliness ; the perfume 
of last summer’s roses and lavender ; the polished surface 
of table and cabinets, oak chests and oak floors, testifying 
to the inexorable industry of rustic housemaids. In all 
other respects the Grange was like a house that had just 
awakened from a century of sleep. 

Lady Warner rose from her high-backed chair by the 
chimney corner in the oak parlor, and laid aside the book 
she had been reading, to welcome her son, startled at seeing 
him followed by a tall fair girl in a black mantle and 
hood, and a little slip of a thing, with bright dark eyes and 
small determined face, pert, pointed, interrogative, framed 
in swansdown — a small aerial flgure in a white cloth 
cloak, and a scarlet brocade frock, under which two little 
red shoes danced into the room. 

Mother, I have brought Mrs. Angela Kirkland and 
her niece to visit you this Christmas morning.’’ 

Mrs. Kirkland and her niece are welcome,” and Lady 
Warner made a deep curtsey, not like one of Lady Eareham’s 
sinking curtseys, as of one near swooning in an ecstasy of 
politeness, but dignifled and inflexible, straight down and 
straight up again. 

But as for Christmas, ’tis one of those superstitious 
observances which I have ever associated with a church I 
abhor.” 

Denzil reddened furiously. To have brought this upon 
his beloved ! 


In A Puritan House. 


165 

Angela drew herself up, and paled at the unexpected 
assault. The brutality of it was startling, though she 
knew, from DenziPs opinions, that his mother must be an 
enemy of her faith. 

Indeed, madam, I am sorry that anybody in England 
should think it an ill thing to celebrate the birthday of 
our Redeemer and Lord,” she said. 

Do you think, young lady, that foolish romping games, 
and huge chines of beef, and smoking ale made luscious 
with spices and roasted pippins, and carol-singing and 
play-acting, can be the proper honoring of Him who was 
God first and forever, and man only for one brief interval 
in His eternal existence ? To keep God^s birthday with 
drunken rioting ! What blasphemy ! If you can think that 
there is not more of profaneness than piety in such sensual 
revelries — why, it is that you do not know how to think. 
You would have learnt to reason better had you known 
that sweet poet and musician, and true thinker, Mr. John 
Milton, with whom it was my privilege to converse fre- 
quently during my husband^’s lifetime, and afterwards when 
he condescended to accept my son for his pupil, and spent 
three days and nights under this roof.” 

Mr. Milton is still at Ohalfont, mother. So you may 
hope to see him again with a less journey than to London,” 
said Denzil, seizing the first chance at a change in the 
conversation, ^^and here is little miss to whom I have 
promised a light collation, with some of your Jersey 
milk.” 

They shall have the best I can provide. The larder 
will furnish something acceptable, I doubt not, although I 
and my household observe this day as a fast.” 

‘^^What, madam, are you sorry that Jesus Christ was 
born to-day ? ” asked Papillon. 

I am sorry for my sins, little mistress, and for the sins 
of all mankind, which nothing but His blood could wash 


l66 When The World Was Younger. 

away. To remember His birth is to remember that He 
died for us ; and that is why I spend the twenty-fifth of 
December in fasting and prayer.'’^ 

Are you not glad you are to dine at the Abbey to-day. 
Sir Denzil asked Papillon, by way of commentary. 

Hay, I put no restraint on my son. He can serve God 
after his own manner, and veer with every wind of passion 
or fancy if he will. But you shall have your cake and 
draught of milk, little lady, and you too. Mistress Kirkland, 
will, I hope, taste our Jersey milk, unless you would prefer 
a glass of Malmsey wine.^^ 

Mistress Kirkland is as much an anchorite as yourself, 
mother. She takes no wine.^^ 

Lady Warner was the soul of hospitality, and particularly 
proud of her dairy. When kept clear of theology and 
politics she was indeed a very amiable woman. But to be 
a Puritan in the year of the Five Mile Act was not to think 
over kindly of the Government under which she lived ; 
while her sense of her own wrongs was intensified by 
rumors of over-indulgence shown to Papists, and the 
broad assertion that King and Duke were Roman Catholic 
at heart, and waited only the convenient hour to reforge 
the fetters that had bound England to the Papal throne. 
She was fond of children, most of all of little girls, 
never having had a daughter. She bent down to kiss 
Henriette, and then turned to Angela with her kindest 
smile — 

'^And this is Lady Fareham^’s daughter? She is as 
pretty as a picture.” 

And I am as good as a picture — sometimes, madam,” 
chirped Papillon. Mother says I am douce comme un 
image.” 

When thou hast been silent or still for five minutes,^’ 
said Angela, and that is but seldom.” 

A loud handbell summoned the butler, and an Arcadian 


In A Puritan House. 167 

meal was speedily set out on a table in the hall, where a 
very liberal fire of logs burnt as merrily as if it had been 
designed to enliven a Christmas-keeping household. Indeed 
there was nothing miserly or sparing about the housekeep- 
ing at the Grange, which harmonized with the somber 
richness of Lady Warner’s gray brocade gown, from the 
old-fashioned silk mercer’s at the sign of the Flower-de- 
luce, in Cheapside. There was liberality without waste, 
and a certain quiet refinement in every detail which 
reminded Angela of the convent parlor and her aunt’s 
room, and contrasted curiously with the elegant disorder of 
her sister’s surroundings. 

Papillon clapped her hands at sight of the large plum- 
cake, the jug of milk, and bowl of blackberry conserve. 

I was so hungry,” she said, apologetically, after Len- 
zil had supplied her with generous slices of cake, and large 
spoonfuls of jam. I did not know that Nonconformists 
had such nice things to eat.” 

Did you think we all lay in jail to suffer cold and 
hunger for the faith that is in us, like that poor preacher 
at Bedford?” asked Lady Warner, bitterly. ""It will 
come to that some day, perhaps, under the new Act.” 

""Will you show Mistress Kirkland your house, mother, 
and your dairy ?” Denzil asked, hurriedly. ""I know 
she would like to see one of the neatest dairies in Oxford- 
shire.” 

No request could be more acceptable to Lady Warner, 
who was a housekeeper first and a controversialist after- 
wards. Inclined as she was to rail against the Church of 
Eome — partly because she had made up her mind upon 
hearsay, chiefiy Miltonian, that Eoman Catholicism was 
only another name for image-worship and martyr-burning, 
and partly on account of the favor that had been shown to 
Papists, as compared with the cruel treatment of Noncon- 
formists— still there was a charm in Angela’s meek loveli- 


i68 When The World Was Younger. 

ness against which the daughterless matron could not steel 
her warm and generous heart. She melted in the space 
of a quarter of an hour, while Denzil was encouraging 
Henriette to overeat herself, and trying to persuade Angela 
to taste this or that dainty, or reproaching her for taking 
so little ; and by the time the child had finished her copi- 
ous meal. Lady Warner was telling herself how dearly she 
might have loved this girl for a daughter-in-law, were 
it for that fatal objection of a corrupt and pernicious 
creed. 

No ! Lovely as she was, gentle, refined, and in all things 
worthy to be loved, the question of creed must be a stum- 
bling-block. And then there were other objections. 
Eural gossip, the loose talk of servants, had brought a highly 
colored description of Lady Fareham^’s household to her 
neighbors ears. The extravagant splendor, the waste 
and idleness, the late hours, the worship of pleasure, the 
visiting, and singing, and dancing, and feasting, and worst 
of all, the too indulgent friendship shown to a Parisian 
fopling had formed the subject of conversation in many 
an assembly of pious ladies, and hands and eyebrows had 
been uplifted at the iniquities of Chilton Abbey, as second 
only to the monstrous goings-on of the Court at Oxford. 

Almost ever since the Eestoration Lady Warner had been 
living in meek expectancy of fire from heaven ; and the 
chastisement of this memorable year had seemed to her 
the inevitable realization of her fears. The fiery rain had 
come down — impalpable, invisible, leaving its deadly tokens 
in burning plague-spots, the forerunners of death. That 
the contagion had mostly visited that humbler class of per- 
sons who had been strangers to the excesses and pleasures 
of the court made nothing against Lady Warner’s conviction 
that this scourge was Heaven’s vengeance upon fashion- 
able vice. Her son had brought her home stories of the 
life at Whitehall, terrible pictures of iniquity conveyed in 


In A Puritan House. 169 

the scathing words of one who sat apart, in a humble lodg- 
ing, where for him the light of the day came not, and 
heard with disgust and horror of that wave of debauch- 
ery which had swept over the city he loved since the 
triumph of the Eoyalists. And Lady Warner had heard 
the words of Milton, and had listened with a reverence as 
profound as if the blind poet had been the prophet of 
Israel, alone in his place of hiding, holding himself aloof 
from an idolatrous king and a wicked people. 

And now her son had brought her this fair girl, upon 
whom he had set his foolish hopes, a papist, and the sister 
of a woman whose ways were of . A favorite script- 

ural word closed the sentence in Lady Warner^s mind. 

No ; it might not be. Whatever power she had over 
her son must be used against this papistical siren. She 
would treat her with courtesy, show her house and dairy, and 
there an end. And so they repaired to the offices, with Pa- 
pillon running backwards and forwards as they went along, 
exclaiming and questioning, delighted with the shining oak 
floors and great oak chests in the corridor, and the armor 
in the hall, where, as the sacred and central object, hung 
the breastplate Sir George Warner wore when he fell at 
Hopton Heath, dinted by sword and spike, as the enemy^s 
horse rode him down in the melee. His orange scarf, soiled 
and torn, was looped across the steel cuirass. Papillon 
admired everything, most of all the great cool dairy, which 
had once been a chapel, and where the piscina was con- 
verted to a niche for a polished brass milk can, to the horror 
of Angela, who could say no word in praise of a place that 
had been created by the profanation of holy things. A 
chapel turned into a storehouse for milk and butter ! Was 
this how Protestants valued consecrated places ? An awe- 
stricken silence came upon her, and she was glad when 
Henzil remembered that they would have barely time to 
walk back to the Abbey before the two-o' clock dinner. 


I/O When The World Was Younger. 

Yon keep Court hours even in the country/’ said Lady 
Warner. I have dined before you came.” 

I don’t care if I have no dinner to-day,” said Papillon ; 
but I hope I shall be able to eat a mince-pie. Why 
don’t you love mince-pies, madam ? He ” — pointing to 
Denzil — ^^says you don’t.” 


CHAPTER X. 

THE priest’s hole. 

Dehzil dined at the Abbey, where he was always made 
welcome. Lady Fareham had been warmly insistent upon 
his presence at their Christmas gayeties. 

We want to show you a Cavalier’s Christmas,” she told 
him at dinner, he seated at her side in the place of honor, 
while Angela sat at the other end of the table between 
Fareham and De Malfort. 

^^For ourselves we care little for such simple sports, but 
for the poor folk and the children. Yule should be a season 
to be remembered for good cheer and merriment through 
all their slow dull year. Poor wretches ! I think of their 
hard life sometimes, and wonder they don’t either drown 
themselves or massacre us.” 

They are like the beasts of the field. Lady Fareham. 
They have learnt patience from the habit of suffering. 
They are horn poor, and they die poor. It is happy for us 
that they are not learned enough to consider the inequali- 
ties of fortune, or we should have the rising of want against 
abundance, a bitterer strife, perhaps, than the strife of ad- 
verse creeds, which made Ireland a bloody spectacle for the 
world’s wonder thirty years ago.” 

Well, we shall make them all happy this afternoon ; 


The Priest’s Hole. 


171 

and there will be a supper in the great stone barn which 
will acquaint them with abundance for this one evening at 
least,” answered Hyacinth, gayly. 

We are going to play games after dinner ! ” cried Hen- 
riette, from her place at her father^s elbow. 

His lordship was the only person who ever reproved her 
seriously, yet she loved him best of all her kindred or 
friends. 

^^Aunt Angy is going to play hide-and-seek with us. 
Will you play. Sir Henzil ? ” 

shall think myself privileged if I may join in your 
amusements.” 

^^What a courteous speech. You will be cutting off 
your pretty curly hair, and putting on a French perruque, 
like his,” — pointing to De Malfort. Please don’t. You 
would be like everybody else in London — and now you are 
only like yourself — and vastly handsome.” 

Hush, Henriette ! you are much too pert,” remon- 
strated Fareham. 

But it’s the very truth, father. All the women who 
visit mother paint their faces, so that they are all alike ; 
and all the men talk alike, so that I don’t know one from 
t’other, except Lord Eochester, who is impudenter and 
younger than the others, and who gives me more sugar- 
plums than anybody else. 

Hold your tongue, mistress. A dinner-table is no 
place for pert children. Thy brother there has better 
manners,” said her father, pointing to the cherubic son 
and heir, whose ideas were concentrated upon a loaded plate 
of red-deer pastry. 

You mean that he is greedier than I,” retorted Papil- 
lon. He will eat till he won’t be able to run about with 
us after dinner, and then he will sprawl upon mother’s satin 
train by the fire, with Ganymede and Phosphor, and she 
will tell everybody how good and gentle he is, and how 


172 When The World Was Younger. 

much better bred than his sister. And now if people are 
ever going to leave off eating, we may as well begin our 
games before it is quite dark. Perhaps you are ready, 
auntie, if nobody else is.'’^ 

Dinner may have ended a little quicker for this speech, 
although Papillon was sternly suppressed, and bade to keep 
silence or leave the table. She obeyed so far as to make 
no further remarks, but expressed her contempt for the 
gluttony of her elders by several loud yawns, and bounced 
up out of her seat like a ball from a racket, directly the 
little gentleman in black sitting near his lordship had mur- 
mured a discreet thanksgiving. This gentleman was the 
Roman Catholic priest from Oxford, who had said Mass 
early that morning in the muniment room, and who had 
been invited to his lordship^s table in honor of the festival. 

Papillon led all the games, and ordered everybody about. 
Mrs. Dorothy Lettsome, the young lady who was sorry 
she had not had the honor to be born in France, was of the 
party, with her brother, honest Dan Lettsome, an Oxford- 
shire squire, who had only been in London once in his 
life, to see the coronation, and who had nearly lost his life 
as well as his purse and jewelry in a tavern after that 
august ceremonial. This bitter experience had given him 
a distaste for the pleasures of the town which his poor sis- 
ter deplored exceedingly ; since she was dependent upon 
his coffers, and subject to his authority, and had no hope 
of leaving Oxfordshire unless she were fortunate enough to 
find a townbred husband. 

These two joined in the sports with ardor. Squire Dan 
glad to be moving about, rather than to sit still and listen 
to music which he hated, or to conversation to which he 
could contribute neither wit nor sense, unless the kennel 
or the gun-room were the topic under discussion. The 
talk of a lady and gentleman who had graduated in the 
salons of the Hotel de Rambouillet was a foreign language 


The Priest’s Hole. 


173 


to him, and he told his sister that it was all one to him 
whether LadyFareham and the mounseer talked French or 
English, since it was quite as hard to understand ^em in 
one language as in Pother. 

Papillon, this rustic youth adored. He knew no greater 
pleasure than to break and train a pony for her, to teach 
her the true knack of clearing a hedge, to explain the 
habits and nature of those vermin in whose lawless lives 
she was deeply interested — rats, weasels, badgers, and such 
like — to attend her when she hunted, or flew her peregrine. 

If you will marry me, sweetheart, when you are of the 
marrying age, I would rather wait half a dozen years for 
you, than have the best woman in Oxfordshire that I know 
of at this present.'’^ 

Marry you ! cried Lord Fareham’s daughter. ^ ^ Why, 
I shall marry no one under an earl ; and I hope it will be 
a duke or a marquis. Marchioness is a pretty title ; it 
sounds better than duchess because it is in three syllables 
— mar-chion-ess,’’ with an affected drawl. I am going 
to be very beautiful. Mrs. Hubbuck says so, and mother’s 
own woman ; and I heard that painted old wretch, Mrs. 
Lewin, tell mother so. ^ Eh, gud your la’ship, the young 
miss will be almost as great a beauty as your la’ship’s self ! ’ 
Mrs. Lewin always begins her speeches with ^ Eh, gud ! ’ 
or ^ What devil ! ” But I hope I shall be handsomer than 
mother,” concluded Papillon, in a tone which implied a 
poor opinion of the mateimal charms. 

And now on this Christmas evening, in the thickening 
twilight of the rambling old house through long galleries, 
crooked passages, queer little turns at right angles, rooms 
opening out of rooms, half a dozen in succession. Squire 
Dan led the games, ordered about all the time by Papillon, 
whom he talked of admiringly as a flne-mettled filly, de- 
claring that she had more tricks than the running horse 
he was training for Abingdon races. 


1/4 When The World Was Younger. 

De Malfort, after assisting in their sports for a quarter 
of an hour with considerable spirit, had deserted them, and 
sneaked off to the great saloon, where he sat on the Tur- 
key carpet at Lady Fareham^s feet, singing madrigals to 
his guitar, while George and the spaniels sprawled beside 
him, the whole group making a picture of indolent enjoy- 
ment, fitfully lighted by the blaze of a Yule log that filled 
the width of the chimney. Fareham and the priest were 
playing chess at the other end of the long low room, by the 
light of a single candle. 

Papillon ran in at the door and ejaculated her disgust at 
De MalforFs desertion. 

^‘^'Was there ever such laziness? IPs bad enough in 
Georgie to be so idle ; but then, he has over-eaten him- 
self.^^ 

‘‘ And how do you know that I havenT over-eaten my- 
self, mistress ? asked De Malfort. 

You never do that ; but you often drink too much — 
much, much, much too much.^' 

That’s a slanderous thing to say of your mother’s most 
devoted servant,” laughed De Malfort. And pray how 
does a baby-girl like you know when a gentleman has been 
more thirsty than discreet ?” 

By the way you talk— always French. Jamie ch’dame, 
n’savons, p’sse n’belle s’ree — n’fam-partie d’ombre. Moi 
j’ai p’du n’belle f’tune, p’rol’d’nneur ! You clip your 
words to nothing. Aren’t you coming to play hide and 
seek ? ” 

Not I, fair slanderer. I am a salamander, and love 
the fire.” 

Is that a kind of Turk ? Good-bye. I’m going to 
hide.” 

Beware of the chests in the gallery, sweetheart,” said 
her father, who heard only this last sentence as his daughter 
ran past him towards the door. When I was in Italy I 


The Priest’s Hole. 


175 


was told of a bride who hid herself in an old dower-chest, 
on her wedding-day — and the lid clapped to with a spring 
and kept her prisoner. 

There^’s no spring that ever locksmith wrought that 
will keep down Papillon,^^ cried De Malfort, sounding a 
light accompaniment to his words with delicatest touch like 
fairy music. 

I know of better hiding-places,^^ answered the child, 
and vanished, hanging the great door behind her. 

She found her aunt with Dorothy Lettsome and her 
brother and Denzil in the gallery above stairs, walking up 
and down and listening with every indication of weariness 
to the squire^s discourse about his hunters and running 
horses. 

Now we are going to have real good sport, she said. 

Aunt Angy and I are to hide, and you three are to look 
for us. You must stop here for ten minutes by the French 
clock yonder — with the door shut. You must give us ten 
minutes’ law, Mr. Lettsome, as you did the hare the other 
day, when I was out with you — and then you may begin to 
look for us. Promise.” 

Stay, little miss, you will be outside the house belike, 
roaming Lord knows where, in the shrubberies, or the barns, 
or halfway to Oxford — while we are made fools of here.” 

No, no. We will be inside the house.” 

Do you promise that, pretty lady ? ” 

^^Yes, I promise.” 

Mrs. Dorothy suggested that there had been enough of 
childish play, and that it would be pleasanter to sit in the 
saloon with her ladyship, and hear Monsieur de Malfort 
sing. 

ril wager he was singing when you saw him just 
now.” 

Yes, he is always singing foolish French songs — and 
Pm sure you can’t understand ’em.” 


176 When The World Was Younger. 

Fve learnt the French ever since I was as old as you. 
Mistress Henriette."" 

'‘^Ah, that was too late to begin. People who learn 
French out of books know what it looks like, but not what 
it sounds like.^'’ 

“I should be very sorry if I could not understand a 
French ballad, little miss.” 

Would you — would you, really ? cried Papillon, her face 
alight with impish mirth. Then, of course, you under- 
stand this — 

“ Oh, la d’raoiselle, comme elle est sot-te, 

Ell, je me moque de sa sot-tUse ! 

Eh, la d’moiselle, comme elle est he-te. 

Eh, je m’ en ris de sa be-ti-se ! ” 

She sang this impromptu nonsense prestissimo as she 
danced out of the room, leaving the accomplished Dorothy 
vexed and perplexed at not having understood a single 
word. 

It was nearly an hour later when Denzil entered the 
saloon hurriedly, pale and perturbed of aspect, with Dorothy 
and her brother following him. 

^^We have been hunting all over the house for Mrs. 
Angela and Henriette,” Denzil said, and Fareham started 
up from the chess-table scared at the young man^s agitated 
tone and pallid countenance. We have looked in every 
room ” 

In every closet,” interrupted Dorothy. 

In every corner of the staircases and passages,” said 
Squire Dan. 

Can your lordship help us ? There may be places 
you know of which we do not know ! ” said Denzil, his 
voice trembling a little. It is alarming that they should 
be so long in concealment. We have called to them in 
every part of the house.” 


The Priest’s Hole. 


177 

Pareham hurried to the door, taking instant alarm — 
anxious, pale, alert. 

‘‘ Come ! he said to the others. The oak chests in 
the music-room — the great Florentine colfer in the gallery ? 
Have you looked in those ? 

Yes ; we have opened every chest.^^ 

Faith, to see Sir Denzil turn over piles of tapestries, 
you would have thought he was looking for a fairy that 
could hide in the folds of a curtain ! said Lettsome. 

It is no theme for jesting. I hate these tricks of hid- 
ing in strange corners,” said Fareham. ^^Now, show me 
where they left you.” 

^^In the long gallery.” 

They have gone up to the roof, perhaps.” 

^‘^We have been in the roof,” said Denzil. 

^‘1 have scarce recovered my senses after the cracked 
skull I got from one of your tie-beams,” added Lettsome ; 
and Fareham saw that both men had their doublets coated 
with dust and cobwebs, in a manner which indicated a re- 
morseless searching of places unvisited by housemaids and 
brooms. Mrs. Dorothy, with a due regard for her dainty 
lace kerchief and ruffles, and her cherry silk petticoat, 
had avoided these loathy places, the abode of darkness, 
haunted by the fear of rats. 

Fareham tramped the house from cellar to garret. Den- 
zil alone accompanying him. 

We want no posse comitatus,” he had said, somewhat 
discourteously. You, squire, had best go and mend your 
cracked head in the eating-parlor with a brimmer or two 
of clary wine ; and you Mrs. Dorothy, can go and keep her 
ladyship company. But not a word of our fright. Swoons 
and screaming would only hinder us.” 

He took Mrs. Lettsome^’s arm, and led her to the stair- 
case, pushing the squire after her, and then turned his 
anxious countenance to Denzil. 

J2 


1/8 When The World Was Youngef. 

If they are not to be found in the house, they must he 
found outside the house. Oh, the folly, the madness of 
it ! A December night — snow on the ground — a rising 
wind — another fall of snow, perhaps — and those two afoot 
and alone ! " 

do not believe they are out of doors, Denzil an- 
swered ; your daughter promised that they would not 
leave the house.” 

My daughter tells the truth. It is her chief virtue.” 

^^And yet we have hunted in every hole and corner,” 
said Denzil, dejectedly. 

Hole ! ” cried Fareham, almost in a shout. Thou 
hast hit it, man ! That one word is a flash of lightning. 
The PriesFs Hole ! Come this way. Bring your candle ! ” 
snatching up that which he had himself set down on a 
table, when he stood still to deliberate. ‘^‘^The Priest’s 
Hole ? The child knew the secret of it — fool that I was 
ever to show her. God ! what a place to hide in on a dark, 
winter night.” 

He was half-way up the staircase to the second story be- 
fore he had uttered the last of these exclamations, Denzil 
following him. 

Suddenly through the stillness of the house, there 
sounded a faint far- off cry, the shrill thin sound of a child^s 
voice. Fareham and Warner would hardly have heard it 
had they not been sportsmen, with ears trained to listen 
for distant sounds. Ho view-hallo sounding across miles 
of wood and valley was ever fainter or more ethereal. 

You hear them ? ” cried Fareham. Quick, quick ! ” 

He led the way along a narrow gallery, about eight feet 
high, where people had danced in Elizabeth's time, when 
the house was newly converted to secular uses ; and then 
into a room in which there were several iron chests, the 
muniment room, where a sliding panel, of which the master 
of the house knew the trick, revealed an opening in the 


The Priest's Hole. 


179 


wall. Fareham squeezed himself through the gap, still 
carrying the tall iron candlestick, with flaring candle, and 
vanished. Denzil followed, and found himself descending 
a narrow stone staircase, very steep, built into an angle of 
the great chimney-stack, while as if from the bowels of the 
earth there came, louder at every step, that shrill cry of 
distress, in a voice he could not doubt was Henriette^s. 

The other is mute,^^ groaned Fareham ; scared to 
death, perhaps, like a frightened bird.” And then he 
called, I am coming. You are safe, love ; safe, safe ! ” 
And then he groaned aloud, Oh, the madness, the folly 
of it ! ” 

He and Denzil were on a narrow stone landing at the 
bottom of the house ; and the child^s wail of anguish 
changed to a joyous shriek, Father, father!” close in 
their ears. Fareham set his shoulder against the heavy oak 
door, and it burst inwards. There had been no question of 
secret spring or complicated machinery ; but the great, 
clumsy door dragged upon its rusty hinges, and the united 
strength of the two girls had not served to pull it open, 
though Papillon, in her eagerness for concealment in the 
flrst fever of hiding had been strong enough to push the 
door till she had jammed it, and made all after efforts 
vain. 

Father ! ” she cried, leaping into his arms as he came 
into the room, large enough to hold six men standing 
upright ; but a hideous den in which to perish alone in 
the dark. Oh father, I thought no one would ever And 
us. I was afraid we should have died like the Italian 
lady — and people would have found our skeletons and 
wondered about us. I never was afraid before, l^ot when 
the gray reared as high as a house — and her ladyship 
screamed. I only laughed then — but to-night I have been 
afraid.” 

Fareham put her aside without looking at her. 


i8o When The World Was Younger. 

Angela ! Great God ! She is dead ! ” 

No, she was not dead — only in a half-swoon, leaning 
against the angle of the wall, ghastly white in the flare 
of the candles. She was not quite unconscious. She 
knew whose strong arms were holding her, whose lips 
were so near her own, whose head bent suddenly upon her 
breast, leaning against the lace kerchief, to listen for the 
beating of her heart. 

She made a great effort to relieve his fear, understanding 
dimly that he thought her dead : but could only murmur 
faint broken syllables, till he carried her up three or four 
stairs, and through a door that opened into the garden. 
There in the wintry air, under the steely light of winter 
stars, her senses came back to her. She opened her eyes, 
and looked at him. 

am sorry 1 have not Papillon^s courage,” she said. 

Tu m’as donne une affreuse peur, je te croyais morte,” 
muttered Fareham, letting his arms drop like lead as she 
released herself from their support. 

Denzil and Henriette were close to them. They had 
come to the open door for fresh air, after the charnel-like 
chill and closeness of the small underground chamber. 

Father is angry with me,” said the girl ; he wonT 
speak to me.” 

Angry ! no, no ; ” and he bent to kiss her. But 
oh, child, the folly of it ! She might have died — you 
too — found just an hour too late.” 

It would have taken a long time to kill me,” said 
Papillon, hardily ; But I was very cold, and my teeth 
were chattering, and I should soon have been hungry. Have 
you had supper yet ? ” 

Nobody has even thought of supper.” 

^‘1 am glad of that. And I may have supper with you, 
maynT I, and eat what I like, because iPs Christmas, and 
because I might have been starved to death in the Priest’s 


Lighter Than Vanity. i8i 

Hole. Blit it was a good hiding-place, tout le m4me. Who 
guessed at last.” 

The only person who knew of the place, child. And 
now, remember, the secret is to be kept. Your dungeon 
may some day save an honest many's life. You must tell 
nobody where you were hid.” 

But what shall I say when they ask me ? I must not 
tell them a story. 

Say you were hidden in the great chimney — which is 
truth ; for the Priest^s Hole is but a recess at the back of 
the chimney. And you, Warner,” turning to Denzil, who 
had not spoken since the opening of the door, “ I know 
youT keep the secret.” 

“ Yes. I will keep your secret,” Denzil answered, cold 
as ice ; and said no word more. 

They walked slowly round the house by the terrace, 
where the clipped yews stood out like obelisks against the 
bleak bright sky. Papillon ran and skipped at her father^s 
side, clinging to him, expatiating upon her sufferings in 
the dust and darkness. Denzil followed with Angela, in 
a dead silence. 


OHAPTEE XI. 

LIGHTEE THAJ^ VANITY. 

I THINK father must be a witch,” Henriette said at 
dinner next day, ^‘^or why did he tell me of the Italian 
lady who was shut in the dower-chest just before Angela 
and I were lost in ” — she checked herself at a look from his 
lordship— in the chimney ? ” 

It wants no witch to tell that little girls are foolish and 
mischievous,” answered Fareham. 

You ladies must have been vastly black when you came 


1 82 When The World Was Younger. 

out of your hiding-place/^ said De Malfort. I should 
have been sorry to see so much beauty disguised in soot. 
Perhaps Mistress Kirkland means to appears in the character 
of a chimney at our next court masquerade. She would 
cause as great a stir as Lady Muskerry, in all her Baby- 
lonian splendor, but for other reasons. Nothing could 
mitigate the Mu skerry ^s ugliness, and no disguise could 
hide Mrs. Angela’s beauty.” 

What would the costume be ?” asked Papillon. 

Oh, something simple. A long black satin gown, and 
a brick-dust velvet hat, tall and curiously twisted, like 
your Tudor chimney-pot ? ” 

M. le Comte makes a joke of everything. But what 
would father have said if we had never been found ?” 

‘‘1 should have said that they are right who swear there 
is a curse upon all property taken from the Church and 
that the ban fell black and bitter upon Chilton Abbey,” 
answered his lordship’s grave deep voice from the end of 
the table, where he sat somewhat apart from the rest, 
gloomy and silent, save when directly addressed. 

Her ladyship and the count had always plenty to talk 
about. They had the past as well as tlie present for their 
discourse, and were always sighing for the vanished glories 
of their youth — in Paris, at Fontainebleau, at Saint Ger- 
main. Nor were they restricted to the realities of the pres- 
ent and the memories of the past ; they had that wider 
world of unreality in which to circulate ; they had the 
Scudery language at the tips of their tongues, the fantas- 
tic sentimentalism of that marvelous old maid who in- 
vented the seventeenth-century hero and heroine, or who 
crystallized the vanishing figures of that brilliant age and 
made them immortal. All that little language of toyshop 
platonics had become a natural form of speech with these 
two, bred and educated in the Marais, while it was still the 
select and aristocratic quarter of Paris. 


183 


Lighter Than Vanity. 

To-day Hyacinth and her old playfellow had been chat- 
tering like children or birds in a volary, and with little more 
sense in their conversation ; but at this talk of the ChurcLs 
ban. Hyacinth stopped in her prattle and was almost seri- 
ous. 

I sometimes think we shall have bad luck in this 
house/^ she said or that we shall see the ghosts of the 
wicked monks who were turned out to make room for 
Fareham^s great-grandfather.-’^ 

They were very wicked, I believe, for it was one of 
those quiet little monasteries where the monks could do all 
manner of evil things, and raise the devil, if they liked, 
without anybody knowing. And when Henry the Eighth 
sent his commissioners, they were taken by surprise ; and 
the altar at which they worshiped Beelzebub was found in 
a side chapel, . and a wax figure of the king stuck with 
arrows, like Saint Sebastian. The abbot pretended it was 
Saint Sebastian, but nobody believed him.^^ 

ISTobody wanted to believe him,^"* said Fareham. The 
king made an example of Chilton Abbey, and gave it to my 
worthy ancestor, who was a fourth cousin of Jane Sey- 
mour’s, and had turned Protestant to please his royal mas- 
ter. He went back to the Church of Rome on his death- 
bed, and we Revels have been papists ever since. I wish 
the Church joy of us.” 

The Church has neither profit nor honor from you,” 
said his wife, shaking her fan at him. You seldom go 
to Mass ; you never go to confession.” 

I would rather keep my sins to myself, and atone for 
them by the pangs of a wounded conscience. That is too 
easy a religion which shifts the burden of guilt on to the 
shoulders of a stipendiary priest, and walks away from the 
confessional absolved by the payment of a few extra pray- 
ers.” 

believe you are either an infidel or a Puritan.” 


184 When The World Was Younger. 

A cross between the two perhaps — a mongrel in relig- 
ion, as I am a mongrel in politics. 

Angela looked up at him with sad eyes, reproachful, yet 
full of pity. She remembered his wild talk, semi-delirious 
some of it, all feverish and excited, during his illness, and 
how she had listened with aching heart to the ravings of 
one so near death, and so unfit to die. And now that the 
pestilence had passed him by, now that he was a strong 
man again, with half a lifetime before him, her heart was 
still heavy for him. She who sat at the play of life as a 
spectator had discovered that her sister^s husband was not 
happy. The trifles that delighted Hyacinth left Fareham 
unamused and discontented ; and his wife knew not that 
there was anything wanting to his felicity. She could go 
on prattling like a child, could be in a fever about a fan or 
a bunch of ribbons, could talk for an hour of a new play or 
the contents of the French gazette, while he sat gloomy 
and apart. 

The sympathy, the companionship that should be in 
marriage were wanting here. Angela saw and deplored 
this distance, scarce daring to touch so delicate a theme, 
fearful lest she, the younger, should seem to sermonize the 
elder ; and yet she could not be silent forever while duty 
and religion urged her to speak. 

At Chilton Abbey the sisters were rarely alone. Papillon 
was almost always with them i and De Malfort spent more 
of his life in attendance upon Lady Fareham than at Ox- 
ford, where he was supposed to be living. Mrs. Lettsome 
and her brother were frequent guests, and coachloads of 
fine people came over from the court almost every day. 
Indeed, it was only Fareham^s character — austere as Clar- 
endon^s or Southampton's — which kept the finest of all 
company at a distance. Lady Castlemaine had called at 
Chilton in her coach and four early in July, and her visit 
had not been returned — a slight which the proud beauty 


185 


Lighter Than Vanity. 

bitterly resented : and from that time she had lost no op- 
portunity of depreciating Lady Fareham. Happily her 
jests, not over refined in quality, had not been repeated 
to Hyacinth^s husband. 

One J anuary afternoon the longed-for opportunity came. 
The sisters were sitting alone in front of the vast mediaeval 
chimney, where the abbots of old had burnt their surplus 
timber. Angela busy with her embroidery frame, working 
a satin coverlet for her niece^s bed. Hyacinth yawning over 
a volume of C3TUS, in whose stately pages she loved to rec- 
ognize the portraits of her dearest friends, and for which 
she was a living key. Angela was now familiar with the 
famous romance, which she had read with deepest interest, 
enlightened by her sister. As an eastern story — a record 
of battles and sieges evolved from a clever spinsteFs brain, 
an account of men and women who had never lived — the 
book might have seemed passing dull : but the story of ac- 
tual lives, of living, breathing beauty, and valor that still 
burnt in warrior breasts, the keen and clever analysis of 
men and women who were making history, could not fail 
to interest an intelligent girl, to whom all things in life 
were new. 

Angela read of the siege of Dunkirk, where Fareham 
had fought ; of the tempestuous weather, the camp in the 
midst of salt marshes and quicksands, and all the sufferings 
and perils of life in the trenches. He had been in more 
than one of those battles which mademoiselle's conscientious 
pen depicted with such graphic power, the Gazette at 
her elbow as she wrote. The names of battles, sieges, 
generals had been on his lips in his delirious ravings. He 
had talked of the taking of Charenton, the key to Paris, a 
stronghold dominating Seine and Marne ; of Olanlen, the 
brave defender of the fortress ; Chdtillon, who led the 
charge — both killed there — Chatillon, the friend of Conde, 
who wept bitterest tears for a loss that poisoned victory. 


1 86 When The World Was Younger. 

Eead by these lights, the "" Grand Cyrus was a book to 
he pored over, a book to dread over in the gray winter 
dusk, reading by the broad blaze of the logs that flamed 
and crackled on wrought-iron standards, surmounted with 
an abbot’s miter. Just as merrily the blaze had spread its 
ruddy light over the room when it was a monkish refectory, 
and when the droning of a youthful brother reading aloud 
to the fraternity as they ate their supper was the only 
sound, except the clattering of knives and grinding of 
jaws. 

Now the room was her ladyship’s drawing-room, bright 
with Gobelin tapestry, dazzling with Venetian mirrors, 
gaudy with gold and color, the black oak floor enlivened 
by many-hued carpets from our new colony of Tangiers. 
Fareham told his wife that her Moorish carpets had cost 
the country fifty times the price she had paid for them, 
and were associated with an irrevocable evil in the existence 
of a childless queen ; but that piece of malice. Hyacinth 
told him, had no foundation but his hatred of the duke, 
who had always been perfectly civil to him. 

Of two profligate brothers, I prefer the bolder sinner,” 
said Fareham. Bigotry and debauchery are in the 
mixture.” 

doubt if his majesty frets for the want of an heir,” 
remarked Be Malfort. He is not a family man.” 

He is not a one family man. Count,” answered Fareham. 

Fareham and Be Malfort were both away on this January 
evening, Papillon was taking a dancing lesson from a 
wizened old Frenchman, who brought himself and his 
fiddle from Oxford twice a week for the damsel’s instruction. 
Mrs. Priscilla, nurse and gouvernante, attended these 
lessons, at which the Honorable Henriette Maria Eevel 
gave herself prodigious airs, and was indeed so rude to the 
poor old professor that her aunt had declined to assist at 
any more performances. 


Lighter Than Vanity. 187 

Has his lordship gone to Oxford ? Angela asked, 
after a silence broken only by her sister’s yawns. 

I doubt he is anywhere rather than in such good 
company/’ Hyacinth answered, carelessly. He hates the 
King, and would like to preach at him, as John Knox did 
at his great-grandmother. Fareham is riding, or roving 
with his dogs, I dare say. He has a gloomy taste for 
solitude.” 

Hyacinth, do you not see that he is unhappy ? ” 
Angela asked, suddenly, and the pain in her voice startled 
her sister from the contemplation of the sublime Mandane. 
‘^Unhappy, child ! What reason has he to be unhappy ? ” 
^^Ah, dearest, it is that I would have you discover. 
’Tis a wife’s business to know what grieves her husband.” 

Unless it be Mrs. Lewin’s bill — who is an inexorable 
harpy — I know of no act of mine that can afflict him.” 

I did not mean that his gloom was caused by any act 
of yours, sister ; I only urge you to discover why he is so 
sad.” 

Sad ? Sullen, you mean. He has a fine, generous 
nature. I am sure it is not Lewin’s charges that trouble 
him. But he had always a sullen temper — by fits and 
starts.” 

But of late he has been always silent and gloomy.” 

How the child watches him ! Ma tres chere, that 
silence is natural. There are but two things Fareham 
loves — the first, war ; the second, sport. If he cannot be 
storming a town, he loves to be killing a fox. This fireside 
life of ours, our books and music, our little talks of plays 
and dances troubles him. You may see how he avoids 
us — except out of doors.” 

Dear Hyacinth, forgive me,” Angela began, falteringly, 
leaving her embroidery frame and moving to the other 
side of the hearth, where she dropped on her knees by her 
ladyship’s chair, and was almost swallowed up in the ample 


1 88 When The World Was Younger. 

folds of her brocade train. Is it not possible that Lord 
Fareham is pained to see yon so much gayer and more 
familiar with Monsieur De Malfort than you ever are 
with him ? 

Gayer ! more familiar ! ” cried Hyacinth. Can you 
conceive any creature gay and familiar wdth Fareham ? 
One could as soon be gay with Hon Quixote ; indeed, there 
is much in common between the knight of the rueful 
countenance and my husband. Gay and familiar ! And 
pray, mistress, why should I not take life pleasantly with 
a man who understands me, and in whose friendship I 
have grown up almost as if we were brother and sister ! 
Do you forget that I have known Henri ever since I was 
ten years old — that we played battledore and shuttlecock 
together in our dear garden in the Rue de Touraine, next 
the bowling-green, when he was at school with the Jesuit 
Fathers, and used to spend all his holiday afternoons with 
the marquise ? I think I only learnt to know the saints^ 
days because they brought me my playfellow. And when 
I was old enough to attend the court — and, indeed, I was 
but a child when I first appeared there — it was Henri who 
sang my praises, and brought a cloud of admirers about 
me. Ah, what a life it was ! Love in the city, and war 
at the gates ; plots, battles, barricades ! How happy we 
all were ! except when there came the news of some great 
man killed, and walls were hung with black, where there 
had been a thousand wax candles and a crowd of dancers. 
Chdtillon, Ohabot, Laval — helas, tliese were sad losses ! 

Dear sister, I can understand your affection for an old 
friend, but I would not have you place him above your 
husband ; least of all would I have his lordship suspect 

that you preferred the friend to the husband ” 

“ Suspect ! Fareham ! Are you afraid I shall make 
Fareham jealous, because I sing duets and cudgel these 
poor brains to make bouts rimes with De Malfort ? Ah, 


Lighter Than Vanity. 189 

child, how little those watchful eyes of yours have discovered 
the many’s character ! Tareham jealous ! Why at St. 
Germain he has seen me surrounded by adorers ; the 
subject of more madrigals than would fill a big book. At 
the Louvre he has seen me the — what is that Mr. Whak’s- 
his-name, your friend^s old schoolmaster, the republican 
poet calls it — the cynosure of neighboring eyes.'’ DonT 
think me vain, ma mie. I am an old woman now, and I 
hate my looking-glass ever since it has shown me my first 
wrinkle ; but in those days I had almost as many admirers 
as Madame Henriette, or the Princess Palatine, or the 
fair-haired duchess. I was called la belle Anglaise.’’^ 

It was difficult to sound a warning note in ears so 
obstinately deaf to all serious things. Papillon came 
bounding in after her dancing lesson — exuberant, loqua- 
cious. 

The little beast has taught me a new step in the 
coranto. See, mother, and the slim small figure was 
drawn up to its fullest, and the thin little lithe arms were 
curved with a studied grace, as Papillon slid and tripped 
across the room, her dainty little features illumined by a 
smirk of ineffable conceit. 

Henriette, you are an ill-bred child to call your master 
so rude a name,” remonstrated her mother, languidly. 

’ Tis the name you called him last week when his dirty 
shoes left marks on the stairs. He changes his shoes in 
my presence,” added Papillon, disgustedly. I saw a hole 
in his stocking. Monsieur de Malf ort calls him Cut-caper. ” 


190 


When The World Was Younger. 


CHAPTER XII. 

LADY FAEEHAM^S DAY. 

A MOKTH later, the Oxford Gazette brought Lady 
Eareham the welcomest news that she had read for ever 
so long. The London death-rate had decreased, and his 
majesty had gone to Hampton Court, attended by the 
Duke and Prince Rupert, Lord Clarendon, and his other 
indispensable advisers, and a retinue of servants, to be 
within easy distance of that sturdy soldier Albemarle, who 
had remained in London, unafraid of the pestilence, and 
who declared that while it was essential for him to be in 
frequent communication with his majesty it would be 
perilous to the interests of the State for him to absent 
himself from London, for the Dutch war had gone drivel- 
ing on ever since the victory in June, and that victory 
was not to be supposed final. Indeed, according to the 
General, there was need of speedy action and a consider- 
able increase of our naval strength. 

Windsor had been thought of in the first place as resi- 
dence for the king ; but the law courts had been transferred 
there, and the judges and their following had overrun the 
town, while there was a report of an infected house there. 
So it had been resolved that his majesty should make a 
brief residence at Hampton Court, leaving the queen, the 
duchess, and their belongings at Oxford, whither he should 
return as soon as the business of providing for the setting 
out of the fieet had been arranged between him and the 
General, who could travel in a day backwards and for- 
wards between the cock-pit and Wolsey^s palace. 


Lady Fareham’s Day. 191 

When this news came they were snowed np at Chilton. 
Sport of all kinds had been stopped, and Fareham, who 
in his wife^’s parlance lived in his boots all the winter, had 
to amuse himself without the aid of horse and hound ; 
while even walking was made difficult by the snowdrifts 
that blocked the lanes, and reduced the face of nature to 
one muffied and monotonous whiteness, while all the edges 
of the landscape were outlined vaguely against the misty 
grayness of the sky. 

Hyacinth spent her days half in yawning and sighing, 
and half in idle laughter and childish games with Henriette 
and He Malfort. When she was gay, she was as much a 
child as her daughter ; when she was fretful and hipped, it 
was a childish discontent. 

They played battledore and shuttlecock in the picture 
gallery, and my lady laughed when her volant struck 
some reverend judge or venerable bishop a rap on the nose. 
They sat for hours twanging guitars. Hyacinth taking her 
music lesson from De Malfort, whose exquisite taste and 
touch made a guitar seem a different instrument from that 
on which his pupiks delicate fingers nipped a wiry melody, 
more suggestive of finger-nails than music. 

He taught her, and took all possible pains in the teach- 
ing, and laughed at her, and told her plainly that she had 
no talent for music. He told her that in her hands the 
finest lute haux Maler ever made, mellowed by three cent- 
uries, would be but wood and catgut. 

^'It is the prettiest head in the world,"' he said one day, 
with a light touch on the fair ringleted brow, but there 
is nothing inside. I wonder if there is anything here ? ” 
and the same light touch fiuttered for an instant against 
her brocade bodice, at the spot where fancy locates the 
faculty of loving and suffering. 

She laughed at his rude speeches, just as she laughed at 
his fiatteries, as if there were a safety and armor in that 


192 When The World Was Younger. 

atmosphere of idle mirth. Angela heard and wondered, 
wondering most perhaps what occupied and interested 
Lord Fareham in those white winter days when he lived 
for the most part alone in his own rooms, or pacing the 
long walks from which the gardeners had cleared the snow. 
He spent some of his time indoors deep in a book. She 
knew as much as that. He had allowed Angela to read 
some of his favorites, though he would not permit any of 
the new comedies, which everybody at court was reading, 
to enter his house, much to Lady Fareham^s annoyance. 

I am half a century behind all my friends in intelli- 
gence,^^ she said, because of your puritanism. One tires 
of your everlasting gloomy tragedies — ^your ^ Broken 
Hearts ^ and ^ Philasters.^ I am for all the genius comedy. 

Then satisfy your inclinations, and read Molidre. He 
is second only to Shakespere.'’^ 

I have him by heart already. 

The Broken Heart "" and Philaster delighted 
Angela ; indeed she had read the latter play so often, and 
with such deep interest, that many passages in it had en- 
graved themselves on her memory, and recurred to her 
sometimes in the silence of wakeful nights. 

That character of Bellario ” touched her as no heroine 
of the Grand Cyrus had power to move her. How 
elaborately artificial seemed the Scudery^s polished tirades, 
her refinements and quintessences of the grande passion, 
as compared with the fervid simplicity of the woman-page 
— a love so humble, so intense, so unselfish. 

Sir Denzil came to Chilton nearly every day, and was 
always graciously received by her ladyship. His puritan 
gravity fell away from him like a pilgrim's "" cloak fiung 
off" in the light air of Hyacinth's amusements. He 
seemed to grow younger ; and Henriette's sharp eyes dis- 
covered an improvement in his dress. 

^"This is your second new suit since Christmas," she 


Lady Fareham’s Day. 193 

said, ^^and Fll swear it is made by tlie king^s tailor. 
Kegardez done, madame. What exquisite embroidery, 
silver and gold thread intermixed with little sparks of 
garnets sewn in the pattern. It is better than anything 
of his lordship^s. I wish I had a father who dressed well. 
Fm sure mine must be the shabbiest lord at Whitehall. 
You have no right to be more modish than monsieur, mon 
pere. Sir Denzil.” 

Hold that insolent tongue, p^tit drdle,^^ cried the 
mother, Sir Denzil is younger by a dozen years than his 
lordship, and has his reputation to make at court, and 
with the ladies he will meet there. I hope you are 
coming to London, Denzil. You shall have a seat in one 
of our coaches as soon as the death-rate diminishes, and 
this odious weather breaks up.” 

^‘^Your ladyship is all goodness, I shall go where my 
lode-star leads,” answered Denzil, looking at Angela, and 
blushing at the audacity of his speech. 

He was one of those modest lovers who rarely bring a 
blush to the cheek of the beloved object, but are so poor- 
spirited as to do most of the blushing themselves. 

A week later Lady Fareham could do nothing but praise 
that severe weather which she had pronounced odious, for 
her husband, coming in from Oxford after a ride along the 
road, deep with melting snow, brought the news of a con- 
siderable diminution in the London death-rate ; and the 
more startling news that his majesty had removed to White- 
hall for the quicker despatch of business with the Duke of 
Albemarle, albeit the diminished rate of mortality still 
reckoned fifteen hundred deaths from the pestilence in the 
previous week, and although not a carriage appeared in the 
deserted streets of the metropolis except those in his 
majesty^s train. 

^"How brave, how admirable!” cried Hyacinth, clap- 
ping her hands in -the exuberance of her joy. Then we 

13 


194 


When The World Was Younger. 

can go to London to-morrow, if horses and coaches can be 
made ready. Give your orders at once, Fareham, I be- 
seech you. The thaw has set in. There will be no snow 
to stop us.” 

There will be floods which may make fords impas- 
sable.” 

We can avoid every ford — there is always a detour by 
the lanes.” 

Have you any idea what the lanes will be like after 
two feet deep of snow ? Be sure, my love, you are happier 
twanging your lute by this fireside than you would be stuck 
in a quagmire, perishing with cold in a windy coach.” 

I will risk the quagmires and the windy coach. Oh, my 
lord, if you ever loved me, let us set out to-morrow ! I 
languish for Fareham House — my basset-table, my friends, 
my watermen to waft me to and fro between Blackfriars 
and Westminster, the Middle Exchange. I have not 
bought myself anything pretty since Christmas. Let us 
go to-morrow.” 

And risk spoiling the prettiest thing you own — ^your 
face — by a plague-spot.” 

The King is there — the plague is ended.” 

Do you think he is a god, that the pestilence will flee 
at his coming ? ” 

I think his courage is godlike. To be the flrst to re- 
turn to that abandoned city.” 

What of Monk and the archbishop, who never left it ? ” 

A rough old soldier ! A churchman ! Such lives 
were meant to face danger. But his majesty ! A man for 
whom existence should be one long holiday ? ” 

He has done his best to make it so ; but the pestilence 
has shown him that there are grim realities in life. DonT 
fret, dearest. We will go to town as soon as it is prudent 
to make the move. Kings must brave great hazards, and 
there is no reason that little people like us should risk our 


Lady Fareham’s Day. 195 

lives because the necessities of State compel his majesty to 
imperil his.” 

shall he laughed at if we do not hasten after him.” 

Let them laugh who please. I have passed through 
the ordeal. Hyacinth. I don’t want a second attack of the 
sickness ; nor would I for worlds that you and your sister 
should run into the mouth of danger. Besides, you can 
lose little pleasure by being absent, for the playhouses are 
all closed, and the court is in mourning for the French 
queen-mother.” 

Poor Queen Anne ! ” sighed Hyacinth. She was 
always kind to me. And to die of a cancer — after outliv- 
ing those she most loved. King Louis would scarce be- 
lieve she was seriously ill, till she was at the point of death. 
But we know what mourning means at Whitehall — Lady 
Castlemaine in black velvet, with forty thousand pounds 
in diamonds to enliven it ; a concert instead of a play, per- 
haps, and the King sitting in a corner whispering with 
Mrs. Stewart. But as for the contagion, you will see that 
everybody will rush back to London, and that you and I 
will be laughing-stocks.” 

The next week justified Lady Fareham’s assertion. As 
soon as it was known that the King had established him- 
self in Whitehall, the great people came back to their 
London houses, and the town began to fill. It was as if 
a god had smiled upon the smitten city, and that healing 
and happiness radiated from the golden halo round that 
anointed head. Was not this the monarch of whom the 
most eloquent preacher of the age had written, In the 
arms of whose justice and wisdom we lie down in safety ? ” 
London flung off her cerements — erased her plague- 
marks ; the dead-cart’s dreadful bell no longer sounded in 
the silence of an afflicted city. Coffins no longer stood at 
every other door ; the pits at Finsbury, in Tothill Fields, 
at Islington, were all filled up and trampled down, and the 


196 When The World Was Younger. 

grass was beginning to grow over the forgotten dead. The 
judges came back to Westminster. London was alive again 
■ — alive and healed ; basking in the sunshine of royalty. 

Nowhere was London more alive in the month of March 
than at Fareham House on the Thames, where the Fare- 
ham liveries of green and gold showed conspicuous upon 
his lordship^s watermen, lounging about the stone steps 
that led down to the water, or waiting in the terraced 
garden, which was one of the finest on the river. Wher- 
ries of various weights and sizes filled one spacious boat- 
house, and in another handsome stone edifice with a vaulted 
roof Lord Fareham^s barge lay in state, glorious in cream 
color and gold, with green velvet cushions and Oriental 
carpets, as splendid as that blue-and-gold barge which 
Charles had sent as a present to Madame, a vessel to out- 
glitter Cleopatra'^s galley, when her ladyship and her friends 
and their singing-boys and musicians filled it for a voyage 
to Hampton Court. 

The barge was used on festive occasions or for country 
voyages, as to Hampton or Greenwich ; the wherries 
were in constant requisition. Along that shining water- 
way rank and fashion, commerce and business, were mov- 
ing backwards and forwards all day long. That more 
novel mode of transit, the hackney coach, was only resorted 
to in foul weather, for the legislature had handicapped the 
coaching trade in the interests of the watermen, and 
coaches, were few and dear. 

If Angela had loved the country, she was not less charmed 
with London under its altered aspect. All this gayety and 
splendor, this movement and brightness, astonished and 
dazzled her. 

I am afraid I am very shallow-minded,^^ she told Denzil, 
when he asked her opinion of London. It seems an en- 
chanted place, and I can scarcely believe it is the same 
dreadful city I saw a few months ago, when the dead were 


Lady Fareham’s Day. 197 

lying in the streets. Oh, how clearly it comes back to 
me — those empty streets, the smoke of the fires, the 
wretched ragged creatures begging for bread. I looked 
down a narrow court, and saw a corpse lying there, and a 
child wailing over it ; and a little way farther on a woman 
flung up a window, and screamed out, Dead, dead ! 
The last of my children is dead ! Has God no relenting 
mercy ?” 

It is curious,” said Hyacinth, how little the town 
seems changed after all those horrors. I miss nobody I 
know.” 

‘ ^ Hay, madam ” said Denzil. There have only died one 
hundred and sixty thousand people, mostly of the lower 
classes, or at least that is the record of the bills ; but I 
am told the mortality has been twice as much, for people 
have had a secret way of dying and burying their dead. 
If your ladyship could have heard the account that Mr. 
Milton gave me this morning of the sufferings he saw be- 
fore he left London, you would not think the visitation a 
light one.” 

I wonder you consort with such a rebellious subject 
as Mr. Milton,” said Hyacinth. A creature of Cromwelks 
who wrote with hideous malevolence and disrespect of the 
murdered king, who was in hiding for ever so long after 
his majesty^'s return, and who now escapes a prison only 
by the royal clemency.” 

The King lacks only that culminating distinction of 
having persecuted the greatest poet of the age in order to 
stand equal to the bigots who murdered Giordano Bruno.” 
said Denzil. 

The greatest poet ! Sure you would not compare 
Milton with Waller ?” 

Indeed, I would not. Lady Fareham. ” 

^^Hor with Cowley, nor Denham — dear crack-brained, 
Denham ? ” 


198 When The World Was Younger. 

Nor with Denham. To my fancy he stands as high 
above them as the pole-star over your ladyship^s garden 
lamps. 

A pamphleteer who has scribbled schoolboy Latin 
verses, and a few short poems ; and let me see, a masque 
— yes, a masque that he wrote for Lord Bridgewater^s 
children before the troubles. I have heard my father talk 
of it. I think he called the thing ^ Comus.’” 

K name that will live. Lady Fareham, when Waller 
and Denham are shadows, remembered only for an occa- 
sional couplet. 

Oh, but who cares what people will think two or three 
hundred years hence ? Waller’s verses please us now. 
The people who come after me can please themselves, and 
may read ^Comus’ to their heart’s content. I know his 
lordship reads Milton, as he does Shakespere, and all the 
cramped old playwrights of Elizabeth’s time. Henri, sing 
us that song of Waller’s, Go, lovely rose.” I would give 
all Mr. Milton has written for that perfection.” 

They were sitting on the terrace above the river in the 
golden light of an afternoon that was fair and warm as 
May, though by the calendar ’twas March. The capricious 
climate had changed from austere winter to smiling spring. 
Skylarks were singing over the fields at Hampstead, and 
over the plague-pits at Islington, and all London was re- 
joicing in blue skies and sunshine. Trade was awakening 
from a death-like sleep. The theaters were closed, but 
there were plays acted now and then at court. The Mid- 
dle Exchange was alive with beribboned fops and painted 
belles. 

It was Lady Fareham’s visiting day. The tall windows 
of her salon were open to the terrace, French windows 
that reached from ceiling to fioor, like those at the Hotel 
de Eambouillet, and which Hyacinth had substituted for 
the small Jacobean casements when she took possession of 


199 


Lady Fareham’s Day. 

her husband^s ancestral mansion. Salon and terrace were 
one on a balmy afternoon like this ; and her ladysliip^s 
guests wandered in and out at their pleasure. Her lackeys, 
handing chocolate and cakes on silver or gold salvers, 
were so many as to seem ubiquitous ; and in the salon, 
presided over by Angela, there was a still choicer refresh- 
ment to be obtained at a tea-table, where tiny cups of the 
new China drink were dispensed to those who cared for 
exotic novelties. 

Pry thee, take your guitar and sing to us, were it but 
to change the conversation,^^ cried Hyacinth, and He 
Malfort took up his guitar and began in the sweetest of 
tenors, ‘"‘^Go, lovely rose.” 

He had all her ladyship^s visitors, chiefly feminine, 
round him before he had flnished the first verse. That 
gift of song, that exquisite touch upon the Spanish guitar 
were irresistible. 

Lord Fareham landed at the lower flight of steps as the 
song ended, and came slowly along the terrace, saluting 
his witch’s friends with a grave courtesy. He brought an 
atmosphere of silence and restraint with him, it seemed 
to some of his wife’s visitors, for the babble that usually 
heralds the end of a song was wanting. 

Most of Lady Fareham’s friends affected literature, and 
professed familiarity with two books which had caught the 
public taste on opposite sides of the Channel, In London 
people quoted Butler, and vowed there was no wit so racy 
as the wit in Hudibras.” In Paris, the cultured were 
all striving to talk like Rochefoucauld’s Maxims,” which 
had lately delighted the Gallic mind by the frank cynicism 
that drew everybody’s attention to somebody else’s failings. 

Himself the vainest of men, ’tis scarce wonderful that 
he takes vanity to be the mainspring that moves the human 
species,” said He Malfort, when someone had found fault 
with the Duke’s analysis. 


200 When The World Was Younger. 

Oh, now we shall hear nothing but stale Eoche- 
foucauldisms, sneers at love and friendship, disparagement 
of our ill-used sex. Where has my grave husband been, 
I wonder ? said Hyacinth. Upon my honor, Fareham, 
your brow looks as somber as if it were burdened with the 
care of the nation.'’^ 

“I have been with one who has to carry the greater 
part of that burden, my lady and my spirits may have 
caught some touch of his uneasiness.” 

You have been prosing with that pragmatical personage 
at Dunkirk. Hay, I beg the Lord Chancellor's pardon. 
Clarendon House. Are not his marbles and tapestries 
much finer than ours ? And yet he began life as a sneaking, 

lawyer, the younger son of a small Wiltshire squire ” 

^‘^Lady Fareham, you allow your tongue too much 
licence 

^^Hay, I speak but the common feeling. Everybody is 
tired of a minister who is a hundred years behind the age. 
He should have lived under Elizabeth.” 

A pretty woman should never talk politics. Hyacinth.” 

Of what else can I talk when the theaters are closed, 
and you deny me the privilege of seeing the last comedy 
performed at Whitehall. Is it not rank tyranny in his 
lordship. Lady Sarah,” turning to one of her intimates, 
a lady who had been a beauty at the court of Henrietta 
Maria in the beginning of the troubles, and who from old 
habits still thought herself lovely and beloved, I appeal 
to your ladyship^s common sense. Is it not monstrous to 
deprive me of the only real diversion in the town ? I was 
not allowed to enter a theater all last year, except when 
his favorite Shakespere or, Fletcher was acted, and that 
was but a dozen times. I believe.” 

Oh, hang Shakespere ! ” cried a gentleman whose 
periwig occupied nearly as much space against the blue of 
of a vernal sky as all the rest of his dapper little person. 


201 


Lady Fareham’s Day. 

Gud, my lord, it is vastly old-fasliioned in your lordship 
to taste Shakespere,” protested Sir Ealph Masaroon, shak- 
ing a cloud of pulvilio out of his cataract of curls. 
“ There was a pretty enough play concocted Fother day 
out of two of his — a tragedy and comedy — Measure for 
Measure and Much Ado about Nothing/^ the interstices 
filled in with the utmost ingenuity. But Shakespere 
unadulterated — faugh ! 

I am a fantastical person, perhaps. Sir Ealph ; but I 
would rather my wife saw ten of Shakespere^s plays — in 
spite of their occasional coarseness — than one of your modern 
comedies.'’^ 

I should revolt against such tyranny, said Lady Sarah. 

have always appreciated Shakespere, but I adore a 
witty comedy, and I never allowed my husband to dictate 
to me on a question of taste. 

Plays which her majesty patronizes can scarcely be 
unfit entertainment for her subjects, remarked another 
lady. 

^^Our Portuguese queen is an excellent judge of the 
niceties of our language, said Fareham. I question if 
she understands five sentences in as many acts.” 

^^Nor should I understand anything low or vulgar,” 
said Hyacinth. 

Then, madam, you are best at home, for the whole 
entertainment would be Hebrew to you.” 

^‘'That cannot be,” protested Lady Sarah ; ^‘^for all our 
plays are written by gentlemen. The hack writers of King 
James’s time have been shoved aside. It is the mark of a 
man of quality to write a comedy.” 

‘^‘^It is a pity that fine gentlemen should write foul jests. 
Nay, it is a subject I can scarce speak of with patience, 
when I remember what the English stage has been, and 
hear what it is ; when I recall what Lord Clarendon has 
told me of his majesty’s father, for whom Shakespere was 


202 When The World Was Younger. 

a closet companion, who loved all that was noblest in the 
drama of the Elizabethan age. Time, which should have 
refined and improved the stage, has sunk it in ignominy. 
We stand alone among nations in our worship of the ob- 
scene. You have seen plays enough in Paris, Hyacinth. 
Recall the themes that pleased you at the Marais and the 
Hotel de Bourgogne ; the stories of classic heroism, of 
Christian fortitude, of manhood and womanhood lifted to 
the sublime. You who, in your girlhood, were familiar 
with the austere genius of Corneille ” 

I am sick of that Frenchman's name,^^ interjected 
Lady Sarah. Saint Evremond was always praising him, 
and had the audacity to pronounce him superior to Hry- 
den ; to compare ^ Cinna^ with the ^ Indian Queen.'’ 

A comparison which makes one sorry for Mr. Dryden,” 
said Fareham. I have heard that Conde, when a young 
man, was affected at the scene between Augustus and his 
foe.” 

He must have been very young,” said Lady Fareham. 

But I ^m not going to depreciate Corneille, or to pre- 
tend that the French theater is not infinitely superior to 
our own. I would only protest that if our laughter-loving 
king prefers farce to tragedy, and rhyme to blank verse, 
his subjects should accommodate themselves to his taste, 
and enjoy the plays he likes. It is a foolish prejudice 
that deprives me of such a pleasure. I could always go in 
a mask.” 

Can you put a mask upon your mind, and preserve that 
unstained in an atmosphere of corruption ? Indeed, your 
ladyship does not know what you are asking for. To sit 
and simper through a comedy in which the filthiest sub- 
jects are discussed in the vilest language ; to see all that is 
foolish or lascivious in your own sex exaggerated with a 
malignant licence, which makes a young and beautiful 
woman an epitome of all the vices, uniting the extreme 


203 


Lady Fareham’s Day. 

of masculine profligacy with the extreme of feminine 
silliness. W ill you encourage by your presence the wretches 
who libel your sex ? Will you sit smiling to see your sisters 
in the pillory of satire ? 

I should smile as at a fairy tale. There are no such 
women among my friends ” 

And if the satire hits an enemy, it is all the more 
pungent,” said Lady Sarah. 

An enemy ! The man who can so write of women is 
your worst enemy. The day will come, perhaps, long 
after we are dust, when the women in ‘'Epsom Wells ^ will 
be thought pictures from life. Such an one,'’ people will 
say, as they stand to read your epitaph, ^ was this Lady 
Sarah, whose virtues are recorded here in Latin superla- 
tives. We know her better in the pages of Shad well. 

Lady Sarah paled under her rouge at that image of a 
tomb, as FarehanTs falcon eye singled her out in the light- 
hearted group of which De Malfort was the central figure, 
sitting on the marble balustrade, swinging his legs, in an 
easy, impertinent attitude, and dandling his guitar. She 
was less concerned at the thought of what posterity might 
say of her morals than at the idea that she must inevitably 
die. 

JS'ot a word against Shad,” protested Sir Ealph. I 
have roared with laughter at his last play. Never did any 
one so hit the follies of town and country. His rural put 
is perfection ; his London rook is to the very life.” 

And if the generality of his female characters conduct 
themselves badly there is always one heroine of irreproach- 
able morals,” said Lady Sarah. 

Who talks like a moral dragon,” said Fareham. 

Oh, dem, we must have playhouses,” cried Masaroon. 

Consider how dull town is without them. They are the 
only assemblies that please quality and riffraff alike. Sure 
Tis the nature of wit to bubble into licentiousness, as cham- 


^04 When The World Was Younger. 

pagne foams over the rim of a glass ; and^ after all, who 
listens to the play ? Half the time one is talking to 
some pretty miss, who will swallow a compliment from 
a stranger if he offer it with a china orange. Or, per- 
haps, there is quarreling, and all our eyes and ears are 
on the scufflers. One may ogle a pretty actress on the 
stage ; but who listens to the play, except the cits and 
commonalty ? 

And even they are more eyes than ears,^^ said Lady 
Sarah, and are gazing at the King and Queen, or the 
Duke and Duchess, when they should be following an in- 
trigue by Shadwell or Dry den.” 

Pardieu ! ” exclaimed De Malfort, there are trage- 
dies and comedies in the boxes deeper and more human 
than anything that is acted on the stage. To watch the 
Queen, sitting silent and melancholy, while Madam Bar- 
bara lolls across half a dozen people to talk to his maj- 
esty, dazzling him with her brilliant eyes, bewildering him 
by her daring speech. Or, on the other nights, to see the 
same lady out of favor, sitting apart with an ivory shoulder 
turned towards royalty, scowling at the audience like a 
beautiful thunder-cloud.” 

Well, it is but natural, perhaps, that such a court 
should inspire such a stage, and that for the heroic drama 
of Beaumont and Fletcher, Webster, Massinger, and 
Ford, we should have a gross caricature of our own follies 
and our own vices. Kay, so essential is foulness to the 
modern stage, that when the manager ventures a serious 
play, he takes care to introduce it with some filthy pro- 
logue, and to spice the finish with a filthier epilogue.” 

Zounds, Fareham !” cried Masaroon, ^^when one has 
yawned or slept through five acts of dull heroics one needs 
to be stung into wakefulness by a high-spiced epilogue. 
For my taste your epilogue canT be too pungent to give a 
flavor to my oysters and rhenish. Gud, my lord, we must 


Lady Fareham's Day. 205 

have something to talk about when we leave the play- 
house.” 

His lordship is spoilt ; we are all spoilt for London after 
having lived in the most exquisite city in the world/'’ 
drawled Mrs. Danville, one of Lady Fareham^s particular 
friends, who had been educated at the Visitandines with the 
Princess Henrietta, now Duchess of Orleans. ^^Who can 
tolerate the coarse manners and sea-coal fires of London after 
the smokeless skies and exquisite courtesies of Parisian good 
company, in the Eue Saint Thomas du Louvre — a society so 
refined that a fault in grammar shocks as much as a slit nose 
at Charing Cross. I shudder when I recall the Saturdays 
in the Eue du Temple, and compare the conversations there, 
the play of wit and fancy, the elaborate arguments upon 
platonic love, the graceful raillery, with any assembly in 
London — except yours. Hyacinth. At Parehato House we 
breathe a finer air, although his lordship^’s esprit moqueur 
wdll not allow us any superiority to the coarse English mob.” 

Indeed, Mrs. Danville, even your prejudice cannot deny 
London fine gentlemen and wits,” remonstrated Sir Ealph. 

court that can boast a Buckhurst, a Eochester, an 
Etherege, a Sedley ” 

There is not one of them can compare with Voiture or 
Godeau, with Bussy or Saint Evremond, still less with Scar- 
ron or Moliere,” said De Malfort. I have heard more wit 
in one evening at Scarron^’s than in a week at Whitehall. 
Wit in France has its basis in thought and erudition. 
Here it is the sparkle and froth of empty minds, a trick of 
speech, a knack of saying brutal things under a pretense 
of humor, vanishing real impertinence with mock wit. I 
have heard Eowley laugh at insolences which, addressed 
to Louis, would have ensured the speaker a year in the 
Bastille.” 

I would not exchange our easy-tempered king for your 
graceful despot. Pride is the mainspring that moves that 


2o6 When The World Was Younger. 

self-absorbed soul. His mother instilled it into his mind 
almost before he could speak. He was bred in the belief 
that he has no more parallel or fellow than the sun which 
he has chosen for his emblem. And then, for moral worth, 
he is little better than his cousin. Louis has all Charleses 
elegant vices, plus tyranny. 

Louis is every inch a king. Your easy-tempered gentle- 
man at Whitehall is only a tradition,” said De Malfort. 

He is but an extravagantly paid official whose office is 
a sinecure, and who sells something of his prerogative every 
session for a new grant of money. I dare adventure, by 
the end of his reign, Charles will have done more than 
Cromwell to increase the liberty of the subject, and to prove 
the insignificance of kings.” 

‘^1 doubt the easy-tempered sinecurist who leaves the 
business of the State to his Parliament will wear longer than 
your officious tyrant, who wants to hold the strings in his 
own fingers.” 

He may do that safely, so long as he has men like 
Colbert for puppets ” 

Men ! ” cried Fareham. A man of so rare an honesty 
must not be thought of in the plural. ColberPs talent, 
probity and honor constitute a phoenix that appears once 
in a century ; and, given those rare qualities in the man, 
it needs a Eichelieu to inspire the minister, and a Mazarin 
to teach him his craft, and to prepare him for the artifices 
of politicians which his own direct mind could never have 
imagined. Trained first by one of the greatest, and next 
by one of the subtlest statesmen the world has ever seen, 
the provincial woolen draper's son has all the qualities 
needed to raise France to the pinnacle of fortune, if his 
master will but give him a free hand.” 

At any rate, he will make Jacques Bonhomme pay hand- 
somely for his majesty's new palaces and new loves, ” said 
De Malfort. Colbert adores the king, and is blind to his 


Lady Fareham’s Day. 207 

follies, which are no more economical than the vulgar 
pleasures of your master here.” 

Who takes four shillings in every country gentleman^s 
pound to spend on the pleasures of London,” interjected 
Masaroon. Koyalty is plaguey expensive.” 

The company sighed a melancholy assent. 

And one can never tell whether the money they squeeze 
out of us goes to build a new ship, or to pay Lady Castle- 
maine^s gambling debts,” said Lady Sarah. 

Oh, no doubt the lady, as Hyde calls her, has her tithes,” 
said He Malfort. I have observed she always flames in 
new jewels after a subsidy.” 

Eoyal accounts should be kept so that every tax-payer 
could look into them,” said Masaroon. The King has 
spent millions. We were all so foolishly fond of him in the 
joyful day of his restoration that we allowed him to wallow 
in extravagance, and asked no questions ; and for a man 
who had worn threadbare velvet and tarnished gold, and 
lived upon loans and gratuities from foreign princes and 
particulars, it was anew sensation to draw ad libitum upon 
a national exchequer.” 

The exchequer Eowley draws upon should be as deep 
and wide as the river Pactolus ; for he is a spendthrift by 
instinct, ” said Fareham. 

Yet his largest expenditure can hardly equal his cousin^s 
drain upon the revenue. Mansart is spending millions on 
Versailles, with his bastard Italian architecture, his bloated 
garlands and festoons, his stone lilies and pomegranates. 
Charles builds no palaces, initiates no war ” 

And will leave neither palace nor monument ; will have 
lived only to diminish the dignity and importance of his 
country. Kestored to kingdom and power as if by a miracle, 
he makes it his chief business to show Englishmen how 
well they could have done without him,” said Denzil 
Warner, who had been hanging over Angela^a tea-table 


2o8 When The World Was Younger. 

until just now, when they both sauntered on to the terrace, 
the lady's office being fulfilled, the little Chinese teapot 
emptied of its costly contents, and the tiny teacups duly 
distributed among the modish few who liked, or at least 
pretended to relish the new drink. 

You are a republican. Sir Denzil, fostered by an ar- 
rant demagogue," exclaimed Masaroon, with a contempt- 
uous shake of his shoulder-ribbons. You hate the king 
because he is a king " 

^^No, sir, I despise him because he is so much less than 
a king. Nobody could hate Charles the Second. He is 
not big enough." 

Oh, dem, we want no meddlesome kings to quarrel 
with their neighbors, and set Europe by the ears. The 
treaty of the Pyrenees may be a fine thing for France ; but 
how many noble gentlemen's lives it cost, to say nothing of 
the common people. Eowley is the finest gentleman in 
his kingdom, and the most good-natured. Eh, gud sirs ! 
what more would you have ? 

A man — like Henry the Fifth — or Oliver Cromwell — 
or Elizabeth." 

Faith, she had need possess the manly virtues, for she 
must have been a plaguey unattractive female — a sour, 
lantern-jawed spinster, with all the inclinations but none 
of the qualities of a coquette." 

Greatness has the privilege of small failings, or it 
would scarce be human. Elizabeth and Julius Csesar 
might be excused some harmless vanities." 


The spring evenings were now mild enough for promenad- 
ing St. James's Park, and the Mall was crowded night after 
night by the finest company in London. Hyacinth walked 
in the Mall, and appeared occasionally in her coach in Hyde 
Park ; but she repeatedly reminded her friends how in- 


2og 


Lady Fareham’s Day. 

ferior was tlie mill-round of tlie ring to the procession of 
open carriages along the Cours la Eeine, by the side of the 
Seine ; the splendor of the women^’s dress, outshone 
sometimes by the extravagant decoration of their coaches 
and the richness of their liveries ; the crowds of horsemen, 
the finest gentlemen in France, riding at the coach doors, 
and bandying jests and compliments, with beauty en- 
throned in her triumphal chariot. Oh, happy summer 
evenings of the golden past, when life and the world were 
new, when the rosy river blushed under the roseate sky, 
and the glittering spire of the Sainte Chapelle, flashing 
against an opal horizon, suggested the jewelled glories of the 
new Jerusalem. Gay, joyous sunsets, light laughter, deli- 
cate feasting in Eenard’s garden, hard by the Tuileries 
palace. To remember that fairer and different scene was 
to recall the freshness of youth, the romance of a first love. 

Here in the Mall there was gayety enough and to spare. 
A crowd of fine people that sometimes thickened to a mob, 
thronged by the cits and starveling poets who came to 
stare at them. Here half the women went masked, as if 
ashamed of the place in which they joined. Here there 
were bustlings and jostlings, and rudenesses that led to 
quarrels, which finished in the fields behind Southampton 
House, or on the lonely wastes of Battersea, or by the 
riverside at Barn Elms. 

Yet, since St. Jameses Park was fashion^s favorite pro- 
menade Lady Fareham affected it, and took a turn or two 
nearly every evening, alighting from her chair at one gate 
and returning to it at another, on her way to hall or dance. 
She took Angela with her ; and He Malfort and Sir Den- 
zil were generally in attendance upon them, DenziPs de- 
votion stopping at nothing except a proposal of marriage, 
for which he had not mustered courage in a friendship 
that had lasted half a year. 

Because there was one so favored as Endymion, am I 

13 


210 When The World Was Younger. 

to hope for the moon to come down and give herself to me ? 
he said one day, when Lady Fareham had rebuked him 
for his reticence. I know your sister does not love me, 
yet I hang on, hoping that love will come suddenly, like 
the coming of spring, which is ever a surprise. And even 
if I am never to win her, it is happiness to see her and to 
talk with her. I will not spoil my chance by rashness ; I 
will not hazard banishment from her dear company. I 
would rather be her friend than any other woman^s lover. 
She is lucky in such an admirer sighed Hyacinth, 
silent, respectful passion is the rarest thing nowadays. 
The loveliest woman in London is not thought worth the 
patience of a long courtship. Well, you deserve to con- 
quer, Denzil ; and if my sister were not of the coldest 
nature I ever met in woman she would have returned your 
passion ages ago, when you were so much in her company 
at Chilton.” 

can afford to wait as long as the Greeks waited before 
Troy,” said Denzil ; and I will be as constant as they 
were. If I cannot be her lover I can be her friend, and 
her protector.” 

Protector ! Hay, surely she needs no protector out-of- 
doors, when she has Fareham and me within ! ” 

Beauty has always need of defenders.” 

^^Hot such beauty as Angela^s. In the first place, her 
charms are of no dazzling order ; and in the second, she 
has a coldness of temper and an old-fashioned wisdom 
which would safeguard her amidst the rabble rout of 
Comus. Indeed, I have sometimes thought her like the 
lady your friend describes.” 

She has indeed — 

‘ The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended 
By a strong-siding champion, Conscience.’” 

— answered Denzil, thoughtfully. And I believe you are 


21 1 


The Sage Of Sayes Court. 

right. Lady Tareham. Temptation could not touch her. 
Sin, even the subtlest, could not so disguise itself that her 
purity would not take alarm. Yes ; she is like Milton^s 
lady. The tempter could not touch the freedom of her 
mind. Sinful love would wither at a look from those pure 
eyes.” 

He turned away suddenly and walked to the window. 
Denzil, why, what is the matter ? You are weeping ! ” 
Forgive me,” he said, recovering himself. Indeed, 
I am not ashamed of a tributary tear to virtue and beauty 
like your sister’s.” 

Dear friend, I shall not be truly happy till I can call 
you brother.” 

She gave him both her hands, and he bent down to kiss 
them. 

I swear you are losing all your Anabaptist stiffness. 
You will be ruffling it in Covent Garden with Buckhurst 
and his crew before long.” 


CHAPTEE XIIL 

THE SAGE OF SAYES COURT. 

Ohe of Angela’s letters to her convent companion, the 
chosen friend and confidant of childhood and girlhood, 
Leonie de Ville, now married to the Baron de Beaulieu, 
and established in a fine house in the Place Eoyale, will 
best depict her life and thoughts and feelings during her 
first London season. 

You tell me, chere, that this London, which I have 
painted in somewhat brilliant colors, must be a poor place 
compared with your exquisite city ; but, indeed, despite 


212 When The World Was Younger. 

all you say of the Conrs la Eeine, and your splendor of 
gilded coaches, fine ladies, and noble gentlemen, who ride 
at your coach windows, talking to you as they rein in their 
spirited horses, I cannot think that your fashionable prome- 
nade can so much surpass our Eing in Hyde Park, where 
the court airs itself daily in the new glass coaches, or outvie 
for gayety our Mall in St. Jameses Park, where all the 
world of beauty and wit is to be met walking up and down 
in the gayest, easiest way, everybody familiar and acquaint- 
ed, with the exception of a few women in masks, who are 
never to be spoken to or spoken about. Indeed, my sister 
and I have acquired the art of appearing neither to see nor 
to hear objectionable company, and pass close beside fine 
flaunting masks, rub shoulders with them, even — and all 
as if we saw them not. It is for this that Lord Fareham 
hates London. Here, he says, vice takes the highest place, 
and flaunts in the sun, while virtue blushes, and steals by 
with averted head. But though I wonder at this court of 
Whitehall, and the wicked woman who reigns empress there 
and the neglected queen, and the ladies of honor, whose 
bad conduct is on every one’s lips, I wonder more at the 
people and the life you describe at the Louvre, and Saint 
Germain, and Fontainebleau, and your new palace of 
Versailles. 

Indeed, Leonie, the world must be in a strange way 
when vice can put on all the grace and dignity of virtue, 
and hold an honorable place among good and noble women. 
My sister ^ays that Madame de Montausier is a woman of 
stainless character, and her husband the proudest of men, 
yet you tell me that both husband and wife are full of kind- 
ness and favors for that unhappy Mademoiselle de la Val- 
lidre, whose position at court is an open insult to your poor 
queen. Have queens often been so unhappy, I wonder, as 
her majesty here, and your own royal mistress ? One at 
least was not. The martyred king was of all husbands the 


213 


The Sage Of Sayes Court. 

most constant and affectionate, and, in the opinion of 
many, lost his kingdom chiefly through his fatal indulgence 
of Queen Henrietta's caprices, and his willingness to be 
governed by her opinions in circumstances of difficulty, 
where only the wisest heads in the land should have coun- 
selled him. But how I am wandering from my defence of 
this beautiful city against your assertion of its inferiority. 
I hope, ch^re, that you will cross the sea some day, and 
allow my sister to lodge you in this house where I write ; 
and when you look out upon our delightful river, with its 
gay traffic of boats and barges passing to and fro, and its 
palaces, rising from gardens and Italian terraces on either 
side of the stream ; when you see our ancient cathedral of 
St. Paul, and the Abbey of St. Peter, lying a little back 
from the water, grand and ancient, and somewhat gloomy 
in its massive bulk ; and eastward, the fortress-prison, with 
its four towers, and the ships lying in the Pool, and fertile 
Bermondsey with its gardens and convents, and all the 
beauty of verdant shores between the city and Greenwich, 
you will own that London and its adjacent villages can 
compare favorably with any metropolis in the world. 

The only complaint one hears is of its rapid growth, 
which is fast encroaching upon the pleasant flelds and 
rustic lanes behind the LamVs Conduit and Southampton 
House ; and on the western side spreading so rapidly that 
there will soon be no country left between London and 
Knightsbridge. 

It was only last Tuesday that I had the opportunity of 
seeing more of the city than I had seen previously — and at 
its best advantage as seen from the river. Mr. Evelyn, of 
Sayes Court, had invited my sister and his lordship to visit 
his house and gardens. He is a great gardener and arbori- 
culturist, as you may have heard, for he has traveled much 
on the Continent, and acquired a reputation for his knowl- 
edge of trees and flowers, 


214 When The World Was Younger. 

were all invited — the Farehams, and my niece 
Henriette ; and even I, whom Mr. Evelyn had seen but 
once, was included in the invitation. We were to travel by 
water, in his lordship^s barge, and Mr. Evelyn^s coach was 
to meet us at a landing-place not far from his house. We 
were to start in the morning, dine with him, and return 
to Fareham House before dark. Henriette was enchanted, 
and I found her at her prayers on Monday night praying 
Saint Switliin, whom she believed to have care of the 
weather, to allow no rain on Tuesday. 

She looked so pretty next morning, dressed for the 
journey, in a light blue cloth cloak embroidered with silver, 
and a hood of the same ; but she brought me bad news — 
my sister had a feverish headache, and begged us to go 
without her. I went to Hyacinth^s room to try to persuade 
her to go with us, in the hope that the fresh air along the 
river would cure her headache ; but she had been at a 
dance overnight, and was tired, and would do nothing but 
rest in a dark room all day — at least, that was her resolve 
in the morning ; but later she remembered that it was 
Lady Lucretia Topham^s visiting day, and, feeling better, 
ordered her chair and went off to Bloomsbury Square, 
where she met all the wits full of a new play which had 
been acted at Whitehall, the public theaters being still 
closed on account of the late contagion. 

They do not act their plays here as often as your 
Moliere is acted at the Hotel de Bourgogne. The town is 
constant in nothing but wanting perpetual variety, and 
the stir and bustle of a new play, which gives something 
for the wits to dispute about. I think we must have 
three playwrights to one of yours ; but I doubt if there is 
wit enough in a dozen of our writers to equal your Moliere, 
whose last comedy seems to surpass all that has gone 
before. His lordship had a copy from Paris last week, 
and read the play to us in the evening. He has no accent. 


215 


The Sage Of Sayes Court. 

and reads French beautifully, with spirit and fire, and in 
the passionate scenes his great deep voice has a fine effect. 

We left Fareham House at nine o^’clock on a lovely 
morning, worthy this month of May. The lessening of 
fires in the city since the warmer weather has freed our 
skies from sea-coal smoke, and the sky last Tuesday was 
bluer than the river. 

The cream-colored and gold barge, with twelve 
rowers in the Fareham green velvet liveries, would have 
pleased your eyes, which have ever loved splendor ; but 
you might have thought the master of this splendid barge 
too somber in dress and aspect to become a scene which 
recalled Cleopatra^s galley. To me there is much that is 
interesting in that severe and serious face, with its olive 
complexion and dark eyes, shadowed by the strong, 
thoughtful brow. People who knew Lord Strafford say 
that my brother-in-law has a look of that great, unfor- 
tunate man — sacrificed to stem the rising fiood of rebellion, 
and sacrificed in vain. Fareham is his kinsman on the 
mothers side and may have perhaps something of his power- 
ful mind, together with the rugged grandeur of his features 
and the bent carriage of his shoulders, which some one the 
other day called the Strafford stoop. 

I have been reading some of Lord Strafford’s letters, 
and the account of his trial. Indeed he was an ill-used 
man, and the victim of private hatred — from the Vanes 
and others — as much as of public faction. His trial and 
condemnation were scarce less unfair — though the form 
and tribunal may have been legal — than his master’s, and 
indeed did but forecast that most unwarrantable judgment. 
Is it not strange, Leonie, to consider how much of tragical 
history you and I have lived through that are yet so young ? 
But to me it is strangest of all to see the people in this 
city, who abandon themselves as freely to a life of idle 
pleasures and sinful folly— at least the majority of them— 


2I6 


When The World Was Younger. 


as if England had never seen the tragedy of the late 
monarches murder, or been visited by death in his most 
horrible aspect, only the year last past. My sister tells 
every one, smiling, that she misses no one from the circle 
of her friends. She never saw the red cross on almost 
every door, the coffins, and the uncoffined dead, as I saw 
them one stifling summer day, nor heard the shrieks of 
the mourners in houses where death was master. Nor 
does she suspect how near she was to missing her husband, 
who was hanging between life and death when I found 
him, forsaken and alone. He never talks to me of those 
days of sickness and slow recovery ; yet I think the memory 
of them must be in his mind as it is in mine, and that this 
serves as a link to draw us nearer than many a real brother 
and sister. I am sending you a little picture which I made of 
him from memory, for he has one of those striking faces 
that paint themselves easily upon the mind. Tell me 
how you, who are clever at reading faces, interpret this 
one. 

Helas, how I wander from our excursion ! My pen 
winds like the river which carried us to Deptford. Pardon, 
cherie, si je m^oublie trop, mais c^est si doux de causer 
avec une amie d^enfance. 

At the Tower stairs we stopped to take on board a 
gentleman in a very fine peach-blossom suit, and with a 
huge periwig, at which Papillon began to laugh, and had 
to be chid somewhat harshly. He was a very civil-spoken, 
friendly person, and he brought with him a lad carrying a 
viol. He is an officer of the Admiralty, called Pepys, and 
Eareham tells me a useful, indefatigable person. My 
sister met him at Clarendon House two years ago, and 
wrote to me about him somewhat scornfully ; but my 
brother respects him as shrewd and capable, and more 
honest than such persons usually are. We were to fetch 
him to Sayes Court, where he also was invited by Mr, 


21 / 


The Sage Of Sayes Court. 

Evelyn ; and in talking to Henriette and me^ he expressed 
great regret that his Avife had not been invited, and he 
paid my niece compliments upon her grace and beauty 
which I could but think very fulsome and showing want 
of judgment in addressing a child. And then, seeing me 
vexed, he hoped I was jealous ; at which I could hardly 
command my anger, and rose in a huff and left him. But 
he was a person not easy to keep at a distance, and was 
following me to the prow of the boat, when Eareham took 
hold of him by his cannon sleeve and led him to a seat, 
where he kept him talking of the navy and the great ships 
now a-building to replace those that have been lost in the 
Dutch war. 

When we had passed the Pool, and the busy trading- 
ships, and all the noise of sailors and laborers shipping or 
unloading cargo, and the traffic of small boats hastening to 
and fro, and were out on a broad reach of the river with the 
green country on either side, the lad tuned his viol, and 
played a pretty, pensive air, and he and Mr. Pepys sang 
some verses by Herrick, one of our favorite English poets, 
set for two voices — 

“ ‘ Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, 

Old Time still is a-flying ; 

And this same flower that smiles to-day, 
To-morrow will be dying.” 

The boy had a voice like M^re Ursule^s lovely soprano, 
and Mr. Pepys a pretty tenor ; and you can imagine 
nothing more silvery sweet than the union of the two voices 
to the staccato notes of the viol, dropping in here and there 
like music whispered. The setting was Mr. Pepys'’ own, 
and he seemed overcome Avith pride when we praised it. 
When the song was over, Fareham came to the bench Avhere 
Papillon and I Avere sitting, and asked me what I thought 
of this fine Admiralty gentleman, whereupon I confessed I 


2i8 When The World Was Younger. 

liked the song better than the singer, who at that moment 
was strutting on the deck like a peacock, looking at every 
vessel we passed, as if he were Neptune, and could sink 
navies with a nod. 

Misericorde, how my letter grows ! But I love to 
prattle to you. My sister is all goodness to me, hut she has 
her ideas and I have mine ; and though I love her none the 
less because our fancies pull us in opposite directions, I 
cannot talk to her as I can write to you ; and if I plague 
you with too much of my own history you must not fear to 
tell me so. Yet if I dare judge by my own feelings, who 
am never weary of your letters — nay, can never hear enough 
of your thoughts and doings — I think you will bear with 
my expatiations, and not deem them too impertinent. 

Mr. Evelyn^s coach was waiting at the landing-stage ; 
and that good gentleman received us at his hall door. He 
is not young, and has gone through much affliction in the 
loss of his dear children — one, who died of a fever during 
that wicked reign of the Usurper Cromwell, was a boy of 
gifts and capacities that seemed almost miraculous, and 
had more scholarships at five years old than my poor woman^s 
mind could compass were I to live till fifty. Mr. Evelyn 
took a kind of sad delight in talking to Henriette and me 
of this gifted child, asking her what she knew of this and 
that subject, and comparing her extensive ignorance at 
eleven with his lamented soffls vast knowledge at five. I 
was more sorry for him than I dared to say ; for I could 
but think this dear overtaught child might have died from 
a perpetual fever of the brain as likely as from a four days’ 
fever of the body ; and afterwards when Mr. Evelyn talked 
to us of a manner of forcing fruits to grow in strange 
shapes — a process in which he was greatly interested — I 
thought that this dear infantas mind had been constrained 
and directed, like the fruits, into a form unnatural to 
childhood. Picture to yourself, Leonie, of an age when 


219 


The Sage Of Sayes Court. 

he should have been chasing butterflies or making himself 
a garden of cut-flowers stuck in the ground, this child was 
laboring over Greek and Latin, and all his dreams must 
have been filled with the toilsome perplexities of his daily 
tasks. It is happy for the bereaved father that he takes 
a different view, and that his pride in the child’s learning 
is even greater than his grief at having lost him. 

^^At dinner the conversation was chiefly of public 
affairs — the navy, the war, the King, the Duke, and the 
General. Mr. Evelyn told Fareham much of his em- 
barrassments last year, when he had the Dutch prisoners 
and the sick and wounded from the fleet in his charge, and 
when there had been so terrible a scarcity of provisions for 
these poor wretches that he was constrained to draw largely 
on his own private means in order to keep them from 
starving. 

Later, during the long dinner, Mr. Pepys made allu- 
sions to an unhappy passion of his master and patron, my 
Lord Sandwich, that had diverted his mind from public 
business, and was likely to bring him to disgrace. Noth- 
ing was said plainly about this matter, but rather in hints 
and innuendoes, and my brother’s brow darkened as the 
conversation went on ; and then at last, after sitting silent 
for some time while Mr. Evelyn and Mr. Pepys conversed, 
he broke up their discourse in a rough, abrupt way he has 
when greatly moved. 

^ He is a wretch — a guilty wretch — to love where he 
should not, and to hazard the world’s esteem, to grieve his 
wife, and to dishonor his name ! And yet, I wonder, is he 
hajjpier in his sinful indulgence than if he had played a Ro- 
man part, or, like the Spartan lad we read of, had let the 
wild-beast passion gnaw his heart out, and yet made no 
sign ? To suffer and die, that is virtue, I take it, Mr. 
Evelyn ; and you Christian sages assure us that virtue is 
happiness — a queer kind of happiness ! 


220 When The World Was Younger. 

' The Christian's law is a law of sacrifice/ Mr. Evelyn 
said, in his melancholic way. '' The harvest of surrender 
here is to be garnered in a better world." 

^"But if Sandwich does not believe in the golden fields 
of the new Jerusalem — and prefers to anticipate his harvest 
of bliss ! " said Eareham. 

Then he is the more to be pitied/ interrupted Mr. 
Evelyn. 

He is as God made him. Nothing can come out of a 
man but what his Maker put in him. Your gold vase 
there will not turn vicious and produce copper — nor can 
all your alchemy turn copper to gold. There are some of 
us who believe that a man can live only once, and love only 
once, and be happy only once in that pitiful span of 
infirmities which we call life ; and that he is wisest who 
gathers his roses while he may — as Mr. Pepys sang to us 
this morning. 

Mr. Evelyn sighed, and looked at my brother with 
mild reproof. 

^ If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of 
all men miserable.' he said. ^ My lord, when those you 
love people the heavenly city, you will begin to believe and 
to hope as I do.' 

have transcribed this conversation at full length, 
Leonie, because it gives you the keynote to his lordship's 
character, and accounts for much that is strange in his 
conduct. Alas, that I must say it of so noble a man. He is 
an infidel ! Bred in our Church he has faith neither in 
the Church nor in its Divine Founder. His favorite books 
are metaphysical works by Descartes, Hobbes, Spinoza. I 
have discovered him reading those pernicious writings 
whose chief tendency is to make us question the most 
blessed truths our Church has taught us, or to confuse 
the mind by leading us to doubt even of our own existence. 
I was curious to know what there could be in books that 


221 


The Sage Of Sayes Court. 

so interested a man of his intelligence, and asked to he 
allowed to read them ; but the perusal only served to 
make me unhappy. This daring attempt to reduce all 
the mysteries of life to a simple sum in arithmetic, and to 
make God a mere attribute in the mind of man, disturbed 
and depressed me. Indeed, there can be no more unhappy 
moment in any life than that in which for the first time 
a terrible ^ if ^ fiasbes upon the mind. If God is not the God 
I have worshiped, and in whose goodness I rest all my 
hopes of future bliss ; if in the place of an all-powerful 
Creator, who gave me my life and governs it, and will 
renew it after the grave, there is nothing but a quality of 
my mind, which makes it necessary to me to invent a Supe- 
rior Being, and to worship the product of my own imagina- 
tion ! Oh, Leonie, beware of these modern thinkers, who 
assail the creed that has been the stronghold and comfort of 
humanity for sixteen hundred years, and who employ the 
reason which God has given them to disprove the existence 
of their Maker. Eareham insists that Spinoza is a religious 
man — and has beautiful ideas about God ; but I found 
only doubt and despair in his pages ; and I ascribe my 
poor brother’s melancholic disposition in some part to his 
study of such philosophers. 

I wonder what you would think of Fareham, did you 
see him daily and hourly, almost, as I do. Would you 
like or dislike, respect or scorn him ? I cannot tell. His 
manners have none of the velvet softness which is the 
fashion in London — where all the fine gentlemen shape 
themselves upon the Parisian model ; yet he is courteous, 
after his graver mode, to all women, and kind and thought- 
ful of our happiness. To my sister he is all beneficence ; 
and if he has a fault it is overmuch indulgence of her 
whims and extravagances — though Hyacinth, poor soul, 
thinks him a tyrant because he forbids her some places of 
amusement to which other women of quality resort freely. 


222 When The World Was Younger. 

Were he my husband I should honor him for his desire to 
spare me all evil sounds and profligate company ; and so 
would Hyacinth;, perhaps, had she leisure for reflection. 
But in her London life, surrounded ever with a bevy of 
friends, moving like a star amidst a galaxy of great ladies, 
there is little time for the free exercise of a sound judgment, 
and she can but think as others bid her who swear that 
her husband is a despot. 

Mrs. Evelyn was absent from home on a visit, so after 
dinner Henriette and I, having no hostess to entertain us, 
walked with our host, who showed us all the curiosities 
and beauties of his garden, and condescended to instruct 
us upon many interesting particulars relating to trees and 
flowers, and the methods of cultivation pursued in various 
countries. His fig trees are as fine as those in the convent 
garden at Louvain ; and, indeed, walking with him in a long 
alley, shut in by holly hedges of which he is especially proud, 
and with orchard trees on either side, I was taken back in 
fancy to the old pathway along which you and I have 
paced so often arm-in-arm, talking of the time when we 
should go out into the world. You have been more than 
three years in that world of which you then knew so little, 
but it lacks still a quarter of one year since I left that 
quiet and so monotonous life ; and already I look back 
and wonder if I ever really lived there. I cannot picture 
myself within those walls, I cannot call back my own 
feelings or my own image at the time when I had never 
seen London, when my sister was almost a stranger to me, 
and my sister^s husband only a name. Yet a day of sorrow 
might come when I should be fain to find a tranquil 
retreat in that sober place, and to spend my declining 
years in prayer and meditation, as my dear aunt did spend 
nearly all her life. May God maintain us in the true 
faith, sweet friend, so that we may ever have that sanctuary 
of holy seclusion and prayer to fly to — and, oh, how deep 


223 


The Sage Of Sayes Court. 

should he our pity for a soul like Fareham^s, which knows 
not the consolations nor the strength of religion, for 
whom there is no armor against the arrows of death, no 
city of refuge in the day of the mourning. 

‘‘ Indeed he is not happy. I question and perplex 
myself to find a reason for his melancholy. He is rich in 
money and in powerful friends ; has a wife whom all the 
world admires ; houses which might lodge royalty. Perhaps 
it is because his life has been over prosperous that he 
sickens of it, like one who flings away from a banquet table, 
satiated by feasting. Life to him may be like the weari- 
ness of our English dinners, where one mountain of food 
is carried away to make room on the board for another ; 
and where after people have sat eating and drinking for 
over an hour comes a roasted swan, or a peacock, or some 
other fantastical disli, which the company praise as a 
pretty surprise. Often, in the midst of such a dinner, 
I recall our sparing meals in the convent ; our soupe maigre 
and snow-eggs, our cool salads and black bread — and regret 
that simple food, while the reeking joints and hetacombs 
of fowl nauseate my senses. 

^‘^It was late in the afternoon when we returned to the 
barge, for Mr. Pepys had business to transact with our host, 
and spent an hour with him in his study, signing papers, and 
looking at accounts, while Papillon and I roamed about the 
garden with his lordship, conversing upon various subjects, 
and about Mr. Evelyn, and his opinions and politics. 

f r£^Q good man has a pretty trivial taste that will keep 
him amused and happy till he drops into the grave — but, 
lord, what inspired trash it all seems to the heart on fire 
with passion,” Fareham said in his impetuous way, as if 
he despised Mr. Evelyn for taking pleasure in bagatelles. 

‘‘'The sun was setting as we passed Greenwich, and I 
thought of those who had lived and made history in the 
old palace — Queen Elizabeth, so great, so lonely ; Shaks- 


224 When The World Was Younger. 

pere, whom his lordship honors ; Bacon, said to be one 
of the wisest men who has lived since the seven of Greece ; 
Ealeigh so brave, so adventurous, so unhappy ! Surely 
men and women must have been made of another stuff a 
century ago : for what will history remember of the wits 
and beauties of Whitehall, except that they lived and died. 

Mr. Pepys was somewhat noisy on the evening voyage, 
and I was very glad when he left the barge. He insisted 
upon attempting several songs — not one of which he was 
able to finish, and at last began one which for some reason 
made his lordship angry, who gave him a cuff on his head 
that scattered all the scented powder in his wig ; on which, 
instead of starting up furious to return the blow, as I 
thought to see him, Mr. Pepys gave a little whimpering 
laugh, muttered something to the effect that his lordship 
was vastly nice, and sank down in a heap upon the cush- 
ioned seat, where he almost instantly fell asleep. 

Henriette and I were spectators of this scene at some 
distance, I am glad to say, for all the length of the barge 
divided us from the noisy singer. 

The sun went down, and the stars stole out of the 
deep blue vault, and trembled between us and those vast 
fields of heaven. Papillon watched their reflection in the 
river, or looked at the houses along the shore, few and far 
apart, where a solitary candle showed here and there. 
Pareham came and seated himself near us, but talked 
little. We drew our cloaks closer, for the air was cold, 
and Papillon nestled beside me and dropped asleep. Even 
the dipping of the oars had a ghostly sound in the night 
silence, and we seemed so melancholy in this silence, and 
so far away from one another, that I could but think of 
Charon’s boat laden with the souls of the dead. 

Write to me soon dearest, and as long a letter as I 
have written to you. 

A toi de coeur, 

^^Aj^gela." 


The Millbank Ghost. 


225 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE MILLBAHK GHOST. 

Ohe of the greatest charms of London has ever been 
the facility of getting away from it to some adjacent rustic 
or pseudo-rustic spot, and in 1666 , though many people 
declared that the city had outgrown all reason, and was 
eating up the country, a two-mile journey would carry the 
Londoner from bricks and mortar, to rusticity, and while 
the tower of St. PauPs Cathedral was still within sight he 
might lie on the grass on a wild hillside, and hear the sky- 
lark warbling in the blue arch above him, and scent the 
hawthorn blowing in untrimmed hedgerows. And then 
there were the fashionable resorts — the gardens or the fields 
which the town had marked as its own. Beauty and wit 
had their choice of such meeting grounds between West- 
minster and Barn Elms, where in the remote solitudes 
along the river murder might be done in strict accordance 
with etiquette, and was too seldom punished by law. 

Among the rendezvous of fashion there was one retired 
spot less widely known than Eox Hall or the Mulberry 
Garden, but which possessed a certain repute, and was 
affected rather by the exclusives than by the crowd. It 
was a dilapidated building of immemorial age, known as 
the ^"haunted abbey, being in fact the refectory of a 
Cistercian monastery of which all other remains had dis- 
appeared long ago. The abbey had flourished in the life- 
time of Sir Thomas More, and was mentioned in some of 
his familiar epistles. The ruined building had been used 
as a granary in the time of Charles the First ; and it was 

15 


226 When The World Was Younger. 

only within the last decade that it had been redeemed 
from that degraded use, and had been in some measure 
restored and made habitable for the occupation of an old 
couple, who owned the surrounding fields, and who had a 
small dairy farm from which they sent fresh milk into 
London every morning. 

The ghostly repute of the place and the attraction of 
new milk, cheese cakes, and syllabubs, had drawn a certain 
number of those satiated pleasure-seekers who were ever on 
the alert for a new sensation, among whom there was no one 
more active or more noisy than Lady Sarah Tewkesbury. 
She had made the haunted abbey in a manner her own, had 
invited her friends to midnight parties to watch for the 
ghost, and to morning parties to eat syllabubs and dance 
on the grass. She had brought a shower of gold into the 
lap of the miserly freeholder, and had husband and wife 
completely under her thumb. 

Doler, the husband, had fought in the civil war, and 
Mrs. Doler had been a cook in the Fairfax household ; 
but both had scrupulously sunk all Cromwellian associations 
since his majesty^s return, and in boasting, as he often did 
boast of having fought desparately and been left for dead 
at the battle of Brentford, Mr. Doler had been careful to 
suppress the fact that he was a hireling soldier of the 
Parliament. He would weep for the martyred king, and 
tell the story of his owm wounds, until it is possible he had 
forgotten which side he had fought for in remembering 
his prowess and sufierings. 

So far there had been disappointment as to the ghost. 
Sounds had been heard of a most satisfying grimness, during 
those midnight and early morning watchings ; rappings, 
and scrapings, and scratching on the wall, groanings and 
meanings, sighings and whisperings behind the wainscote ; 
but nothing spectral had been seen, and Mrs. Doler had 
been severely reprimanded by her patrons and patronesses 


The Millbank Ghost. 


227 


for the unwarrantable conduct of a specter which she 
professed to have seen as often as she had fingers and 
toes. 

It was the phantom of a nun — a woman of exceeding 
beauty, but white as the linen which banded her cheek and 
brow. There was a dark story of violated oaths, priestly 
sin, and the sleepless conscience of the dead which could 
not rest even in that dreadful grave where the sinner had 
been immured alive, but must needs haunt the footsteps 
of the living, a wandering shade. Some there were who 
disbelieved in the tradition of that living grave, and who 
even went so far as to doubt the ghost ; but the specter 
had an established repute of more than a century, was 
firmly believed in by all the children and old women of 
the neighborhood, and had been written about by students 
of the unseen. 

One of Lady SaralTs parties took place at full moon, not 
long after the visit to Deptford, and Lord Fareham^s barge 
was again employed, this time on a nocturnal expedition 
up the river to the fields near the haunted abbey, to carry 
Hyacinth, her sister, De Malfort, Lord Eochester, Sir 
Ealph Masaroon, Sir Denzil AYarner, and a bevy of wits 
and beauties — beauties who had, some of them, been carry- 
ing on the beauty-business and trading the eyes and com- 
plexion for more than one decade, and who loved that 
night season when paint might be laid on thicker than in 
the glare of day. 

The barge wore a much more festive aspect under her 
ladyship^s management, than when used by his lordship 
for a daylight voyage like the trip to Deptford. Satin 
coverlets and tapestry curtains had been brought from Lady 
Fareham^s own apartments, to be fiung with studied 
carelessness over benches and taborets. Her ladyship^S 
singing-boys and musicians were grouped picturesquely 
under a silken canopy in the bows, and a row of lanterns 


228 


When The World Was Younger. 


hung on chains festooned from stem to stern, pretty gew- 
gaws, that had no illuminating power under that all-potent 
moon, but which glittered with colored light like jewels, 
and twinkled and trembled in the summer air. 

A table in the stern was spread with a light collation, 
which gave an excuse for the display of parcel-gilt cups, 
silver tankards, and Venetian wine flasks. A fountain 
played perfumed waters in the midst of this splendor, and 
it amused the ladies to pull off their long gloves, dip them 
in the scented water, and flip them in the faces of their 
beaux. 

The distance was only too short, since Lady Fareham^s 
friends declared the voyage was by far the pleasanter part 
of the entertainment. Denzil, amongst others, was of this 
opinion, for it was his good fortune to have secured the 
seat next Angela, and to be able to interest her by his ac- 
count of the buildings they passed, whose historical as- 
sociations were much better known to him than to most 
young men of his epoch. He had sat at the feet of a man 
who scoffed at pope and king, and hated episcopacy, but 
who revered all that was noble and excellent in England's 
past. 

Flams, mere flams,” cried Hyacinth, acknowledging 
the praises lavished on her barge ; but if you like clary 
wine better than skimmed milk you had best drink a 
brimmer or two before you leave the barge, since ’tis odds 
youfll get nothing but syllabubs and gingerbread from 
Lady Sarah.” 

A substantial supper might frighten away the ghost, 
who doubtless parted with sensual propensities when she 
died,” said He Malfort. How do we watch for her ? In 
a severe silence, as if we were at church ? ” 

I would keep silence for a week o^ Sawbaths gin I was 
sure o’ seeing a bogle,” said Lady Euphemia Dubbin, a 
Scotch marquis’s daughter who had married a wealthy cit. 


The Millbank Ghost. 


229 


and made it the chief endeavor of her life to ignore her hus- 
band and keep him at a distance. She hated the man 
only a little less than his plebeian name, which she had 
not succeeded in persuading him to change, because, for- 
sooth, there had been Dubbins in Mark Lane for many gen- 
erations. All previous Dubbins had lived over their ware- 
houses and offices ; but her ladyship had brought Thomas 
Dubbin from Mark Lane to my Lord Bedford's Piazza in the 
Covent Garden, where he endured the tedium of existence 
in a fine new house in which he was afraid of his fine new 
servants, and never had anything to eat that he liked, his 
gastronomic taste being for dishes the very name of which 
were intolerable to persons of quality. 

This evening Mr. Dubbin had been incorrigible, and 
had insisted on intruding his clumsy person upon Lady 
Fareham^s party, arguing with a dull persistence that his 
name was on her ladyship’s billet of invitation. 

^‘^Your name is on a great many invitations only be- 
cause it is my misfortune to be called by it,” his wife told 
him. To sit on a barge after ten o’clock at night in 
June — the coarsest month in summer — is to court lum- 
bago ; and all I hope is ye’ll not be punished by a worse 
attack than common.” 

Mr. Dubbin had refused to be discouraged, even by this 
churlishness from his lady, and appeared in attendance 
upon her, wearing a magnificent birthday suit of crimson 
velvet and green brocade, which he meant to present to 
his favorite actor at the duke’s theater, after he had exhib- 
ited himself in it half a dozen times at Whitehall, for the 
benefit of the great world, and at the Mulberry Garden for 
the admiration of the bona robas. He was a fat, double- 
chinned little man, the essence of good-nature, and per- 
fectly unconscious of being an offence to fine people. 

Although not a wit himself, Mr. Dubbin was occasionally 
the cause of wit in others, if the practice of bubbling an 


230 When The World Was Younger. 

innocent rustic or citizen can be called wit. Kochester 
and Sir Kalph Masaroon, and one Jerry Spavinger, a gentle- 
man jockey, who was a nobody in town, but a shining light 
at Newmarket, took it upon themselves to draw the harm- 
less citizen, and as a preliminary to making him ridiculous, 
essayed to make him drunk. 

They were clustered together in a little group somewhat 
apart from the rest of the company, and were attended up- 
on by a lackey who brought a full tankard at the first whistle 
on the empty one, and whom Mr. Dubbin, after a rapid 
succession of brimmers, insisted on calling drawer.” It 
was very seldom that Kochester condescended to take part 
in any entertainment whereon the royal sun shone not, 
unless it were some post-midnight marauding with Buck- 
hurst, Sedley and a band of wild coursers from the purlieus 
of Drury Lane. He could see no pleasure in any medium 
between Whitehall and Alsatia. 

If I am not fooling on the steps of the throne, let me 
loll in the gutter with pamphleteers and orange-girls,” said 
this precocious profiigate. I ahhor a reputable party 
among your petty nobility, and if I had not been in love 
with Lady Fareham off and on, ever since I cut my second 
teeth, I would have no hand in such a humdrum business 
as this.” 

There’s not a neater filly in the London stable than 
her ladyship,” said Jerry, ‘^and I don’t blame your taste. 
I was side-glassing her yesterday in Hi’ Park, but she didn’t 
seem to relish the manoeuvre, though I was wearing a 
Chedreux peruke that ought to strike ’em dead.” 

You don’t give your peruke a chance, Jerry, while you. 
frame that ugly phiz in it.” 

^^Why not buffie the whole company, my lord?” said 
Masaroon, while Mr. Dubbin talked apart with LadyEu- 
phemia, who had come from the other end of the barge to 
warn her husband against excess in Rhenish or Burgundy. 


The Millbank Ghost. 


231 

You are good at disguises. Why not act the ghost and 
frighten everybody out of their senses ? 

II n^y de quoi, Ealph. The creatures have no sense 
to be robbed of. They are second-rate fashion, which is 
only worked by machinery. They imitate us as monkeys 
do, without knowing what they aim at. Their women have 
virtuous instincts, but turn wanton rather than not be like 
the maids of honor ; and because we have our duels their 
men murder each other for a shrugged shoulder or a casual 
word. No, 111 not chalk my face or smear myself with 
phosphorus to amuse such trumpery. It was worth my 
pains to disguise myself as a German Nostradamus, in order 
to fool the lovely Jennings and her friend Price — who 
wonT easily forget their adventures as orange-girls in the 
heart of the city. But I have done with all such follies.” 

You are growing old, Wilmot. The years are telling 
upon your spirits.” 

I was nineteen last birthday, and Tis fit I should feel 
the burden of time, and think of virtue and a rich wife.” 

^^Like Mrs. Mallet, for example.” 

Faith, a man might do worse than win so much beauty 
and wealth. But the creature is arrogant, and calls me 
^ child, ^ and half the peerage is after her. But we’ll have 
our jest with the city crub, Ralph ; not because I bear him 
malice, but because I hate his wife. And we’ll have our 
masquerading sometime after midnight ; if you can borrow 
a little finery.” 

Mr. Dobbin was released from his lady’s sotto voce lecture 
at this instant, and Lord Rochester continued his communi- 
cation in a whisper, the Honorable Jeremiah assenting with 
nods and chucklings, while Masaroon whistled for a fresh 
tankard, and plied the honest merchant with a glass which 
he never allowed to be empty. 

The taste for masquerading was a fashion of the time, as 
much as combing a periwig, or flirting a fan. While 


232 When The World Was Younger. 

Rochester was planning a trick upon the citizen Lady 
Fareham was whispering to De Malfort under cover of the 
fiddles, which were playing an Italian pazzernano, a dance 
beloved by Marguerite of Navarre, who danced to that 
music with her royal brother-in-law, in one of the sump- 
tuous ballets at Saint Cloud. 

Why should they be disappointed of their ghost ? ” 
said Hyacinth. When it would be so easy for me to 
dress up as the nun and scare them all. This white satin 
gown of mine, with a few yards of white lawn arranged on 
my head and shoulders 

Ah, but you have not the lawn at hand to-night, or 
your woman to arrange your head,'’^ interjected De Mal- 
fort, quickly. It would be a capital joke ; but it must 
be for another occasion and choicer company. The rabble 
you have to-night is not worth it. Besides, -there is 
Rochester, who is past-master in disguises, and would smoke 
you at a glance. Let me arrange it some night before 
the end of the summer — when there is a waning moon. It 
were a pity the thing were done ill.'’^ 

Will you really plan a party forme, and let me appear 
to them on the stroke of one, with my face whitened ? I 
have as slender a shape as most women.” 

There is no such sylph in London.” 

And I can make myself look ethereal. Will you draw 
the nun’s habit for me, and I will give your picture to 
Lewin to copy ? ” 

I will do more. I will get you a real habit.” 

But there are no nuns so white as the ghost.” 

"" True, but you may rely upon me. The nun’s robes 
shall be there, the phosphorus, the blue fire, and a selection 
of the choicest company to tremble at you. Leave the 
whole business to my care. It will amuse me to plan so 
exquisite a jest for so lovely a jester.” 

He bent down to kiss her hand, till his forehead almost 


The Millbank Ghost. 


233 


touched her knee, and in the few moments that passed 
before he raised it she heard him laughing softly to him- 
self, as if with irrepressible delight. 

^^What a child you are, she said, ^^to be so pleased 
with such a folly ! 

What children we both are. Hyacinth ! My sweet soul, 
let us always be childish, and find pleasure in follies. 
Life is such a poor thing, that if we had leisure to appraise 
its value we should have a contagion of suicide that would 
number more deaths than the plague. Indeed the wonder 
is, not that any man should commit ^ felo de se,'’ but that 
so many of us should take the trouble to live.^^ 

Lady Sarah received them at the landing-stage, with an 
escort of fops and fine ladies ; and the festival promised 
to be a success. There was a better supper, and more 
wine than people expected from her ladyship ; and after 
supper a good many of those who pretended to have come 
to see the ghost, wandered off in couples to saunter along 
the willow-shaded bank, while only the more earnest spirits 
were content to wait and watch, and listen in the great 
vaulted hall, but with no light but the moon which sent a 
flood of silver through the high Gothic window, from 
which every vestige of glass had long vanished. 

There were stone benches along the two side walls, 
and Lady SaralTs prevoyance had secured cushions or 
carpets for her guests to sit upon, and here the supersti- 
tious sat in patient weariness, Angela among them, with 
Denzil still at her side, scornful of credulous folly, but 
loving to be with her he adored. Lady Fareham had been 
tempted out of doors by De Malfort to look at the moon- 
light on the river, and had not returned. Eochester and 
his crew had also vanished directly after supper, and for 
company Angela had on her left hand Mr. Dubbin, far 
advanced in liquor, and trembling at every breath of 
summer wind that fluttered the ivy round the ruined 


234 When The World Was Younger. 

window, and at every shadow that moved upon the moonlit 
wall. His wife was on the other side of the hall, whisper- 
ing with Lady Sarah, and both so deep in a court scandal 
— in which the K and the D recurred very often 
— that they had almost forgotten the purpose of that 
moonlit sitting. 

Suddenly in the distance there sounded a long shrill 
wailing, as of a soul in agony, whereupon Mr. Dubbin, 
after clinging wildly to Angela, and being somewhat 
roughly flung aside by Denzil, collapsed altogether, and 
rolled upon the ground. 

^‘^Lady Euphemia,^^ cried Mrs. Townshend, a young 
lady who had been sitting next the obnoxious citizen, ^^be 
pleased to look after your drunken husband. If you take 
the low-bred sot into company, you should at least charge 
yourself with the care of his manners.'’^ 

The damsel had started to her feet, and indignantly 
snatched her satin petticoat from contact with the citizen^s 
porpoise figure. 

I hate mixed company, she told Angela, and old 
maids who marry tallow-chandlers. If a woman of rank 
marries a shopkeeper she ought never to be allowed west of 
Temple Bar.'’" 

The young lady was no believer in ghosts, but others of 
the company were too scared for words. All had risen, 
and were staring in the direction whence that dismal shriek 
had come. A trick, perhaps, since anybody with strong 
lungs — dairymaid or cowboy — could shriek. They all 
wanted to see something, a real manifestion of the super- 
natural. 

The unearthly sound was repeated, and the next moment 
a shape, vague, in flowing white garments, rushed through 
the great window, and crossed the hall, followed by three 
other shape in dark loose robes, with hooded heads ; one 
carried a rope, another a pickaxe, the third a trowel and 


The Millbank Ghost. 


^35 

hod of mortar. They crossed the hall with flying footsteps 
■ — shadowlike — the pale shape in distracted flight, the dark 
shape pursuing, and came to a stop close against the wall, 
which had been cleared by the affrighted assembly, scat- 
tering as if the king of terrors had appeared among them 
— yet with fascinated eyes fixed on those fearsome figures. 

It is the nun herself ! cried Lady Sarah, apprehension 
and triumph contending in her agitated spirits ; for it was 
surely a feather in her ladyship’s cap to have produced such 
a phantasmal train at her party. The nun and her exe- 
cutioners ! ” 

The company fell back from the ghostly troop, recoiling 
till they were all clustered against the opposite wall, leav- 
ing a clear space in front of the specters, whence they 
looked on, shuddering at the tragedy of the erring sister’s 
fate, repeated in dumb show. The white-robed figure 
knelt and groveled at the feet of those hooded executioners, 
one seized and bound her with strange phantasmal action, 
unlike the movements of living creatures,and another smote 
the wall with a pickaxe that made no sound, while the third 
waited with his trowel and mortar. It was a gruesome sight 
to those who knew the story — a gruesome, yet an enjoyable 
spectacle ; since, as Lady Sarah’s friends had not had the 
pleasure of knowing the sinning sister in flesh, they watched 
this ghostly representation of her sufferings with as keen 
an interest as they would have felt had they been privileged 
to see Claud Duval swing at Tyburn. 

The person most terrified by this ghostly show was the 
only one who had the hardihood to tackle the performers. 
This was Mr. Dubbin, who sat on the ground watching the 
shadowy figures, sobered by fear, and his shrewd city senses 
^gradually returning to a brain bemused by Burgundy. 

Look at her boots !” he cried suddenly, scrambling to 
his feet, and pointing to the nun, who in sprawling and 
writhing at the feet of her executioner, had revealed more 


236 When The World Was Younger. 

leg and foot than were consistent with her spectral white- 
ness. She wears yaller boots, as substantial as any shoe 
leather among the company. I’ll swear to them yaller 
boots.” 

A chorus of laughter followed this attack — laughter 
which found a smothered echo among the ghosts. The 
spell was broken ; disillusion followed the exquisite thrill of 
fear ; and all Lady Sarah’s male visitors made a rush upon 
the guilty nun. The loose white robe was stripped off, and 
little Jerry Spavinger, gentleman jock, famous on the Heathy 
and at Doncaster, stood revealed, in his shirt and breeches, 
and those yellow riding-boots which he rarely exchanged 
for a more courtly chassure. 

The monks bustled out of their disguise were Kochester, 
Masaroon, and Lady Sarah’s young brother, George Sadding- 
ton. 

From my Lord Eochester I expect nothing but pot- 
house buffoonery, but I take it vastly ill on your part, 
George, to join in making me a laughing-stock,” remon- 
strated Lady Sarah. 

Indeed, sister, you have to thank his lightheaded lord- 
ship for giving a spirited end to your assembly. Could you 
conceive how preposterous you and your friends looked sit- 
ting against the walls, mute as stock-fish, and suggesting 
nothing but a Quaker’s meeting, you would make us your 
lowest curtsey, and thank us kindly for having helped you 
out of a dilemma.” 

Lady Sarah, who was too much of a woman of the world 
to quarrel seriously with a Court favorite, furled the fan 
with which she had been cooling her indignation, and tapped 
young Wilmot playfully on that oval cheek where the beard 
had scarce begun to grow. 

Thou art the most incorrigible wretch of thy years in 
London,” she said, ^^and it is impossible to help being 
angry with thee or to help forgiving thee.” 


Falcon And Dove. 


23; 


The saunterers on the willow-shadowed banks came 
strolling in. Lady Fareham^’s cornets and fiddles sounded 
a march in Alceste, and the party broke up in laughter and 
good-temper, Mr. Dubbin being much complimented upon 
his having detected SpavingeFs boots. 

"" I ought to know ’em/' he answered, ruefully. lost 
a hundred meggs on him Toosday sennight, at Windsor 
races ; and I had time to take the pattern of them boots 
while he was crawling in, a bad third. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

FALCOK DOVE. 

Has your ladyship any commands for Paris ? ” Lord 
Fareham asked, one August afternoon, when the ghost 
party at Millbank was almost forgotten amid a succession 
of entertainments on land and river ; a fortnight at Epsom 
to drink the waters ; and a fortnight at Tunbridge — where 
the Queen and Court were spending the close of summer — 
to warn away the bad effects of Epsom chalybeates with a 
regimen of Kentish sulphur. If nobody at either resort 
drank deeper of the medicinal springs than Hyacinth — who 
had ordered her physician to order her that treatment — 
the risk of harm or the possibility of benefit was of the 
smallest. But at Epsom there had been a good deal of gay 
company, and a greater liberty of manners than in London ; 
for, indeed, as Eochester assured Lady Fareham, ‘^‘^the 
freedom of Epsom allowed almost nothing to be scandal- 
ous.'^^ And at Tunbridge there were dances by torchlight 
on the common. And at the worst, Lady Fareham 
told her friends, a fortnight or so at the wells helps to 
shorten the summer.'’^ 


23 ^ When The World Was Younger. 

It was the middle of August when they went back to 
Tareham House, hot, dry weather, and London seemed to 
be living on the Thames, so thick was the throng of boats 
going up and down the river, so that with an afternoon tide 
running up it seemed as if barges, luggers, and wherries, 
were moving in one solid block into the sunset sky. 

He Malfort had been attached to her ladyship^s party at 
Epsom, and at Tunbridge Wells. He had his own lodgings, 
but seldom occupied them, except in that period between 
four or five in the morning, and two in the afternoon, which 
Rochester and he called night. His days were passed 
chiefiy in attendance upon Lady Fareham — singing and 
playing, fetching and carrying, combing her favorite 
spaniel with the same ivory pocket-comb that arranged his 
own waterfall curls ; or reading a French romance to her, 
or teaching her the newest game at cards, or the last danc- 
ing-step imported from Fontainebleau or St. Cloud, or 
some new grace or fashion in dancing, the holding of the 
hand lower or higher ; the latest manner of passaging in a 
bransle or a coranto, as performed by the French king and 
Madame Henriette, the two finest dancers in France ; 
Conde, once so famous for his dancing, now appearing in 
those gay scenes but seldom. 

^“^Have you any commands for Paris, Hyacinth?” re- 
peated Lord Fareham, his wife being for the moment too 
surprised to ansAver him. Or have you, sister ? I am 
starting for France to-morrow. I shall ride to Dover — 
lying a night at Sittingbourne, perhaps — and cross by the 
packet that goes twice a week to Calais.” 

“ Paris ! And pray, my lord, what business takes you 
to Paris ? ” 

There is a great collection of books to be sold there 
next week. The library of your old admirer, Nicholas 
Fouquet, whom you knew in his splendor, but who has 
been a prisoner at Pignerol for a year and a half.” 


Falcon And Dove. 


239 


Poor wretch!” cried De Malfort, ^‘1 was at the 
Chamber with Madame de Sevigne very often during his 
long tedious trial. Mon Dieu I what courage, what talent 
he showed in defending himself. Every safeguard of the 
law was violated in order to silence him and prove him 
guilty ; his papers seized in his absence, no friend or serv- 
ant allowed to protect his interest, no inventory taken — 
documents suppressed that might have served for his de- 
fence, forgeries inserted by his foes. He had an implac- 
able enemy, and he the highest in the land. He was 
the scapegoat in the past, and had to answer for a system 
of plunder that made Mazarin the richest man in 
France.” 

I don^'t wonder that Louis was angry with a servant 
who had the insolence to entertain his majesty with a 
splendor that surpassed his own,” said Lady Fareham. I 
should like to have been at those fetes at Yaux. But al- 
though Fareham talks so lightly of traveling to Paris to 
choose a few dusty books, he has always discouraged me 
from going there to see old friends, and my own house — 
which I grieve to think of — abandoned to the carelessness 
of servants.” 

Dearest, the cleverest woman in the world cannot be 
in two places at once ; and it seems to me you have ever 
had your days here so full of agreeable engagements 
that you have hardly seriously desired to leave London,” 
answered Fareham, with his grave smile. 

^ ^ To leave London — no I But there have been long 
moping months in Oxfordshire when it would have been a 
relief to change the scene.” 

Then, indeed, had you been very earnest in wanting 
such a change, I am sure you would have taken it. I have 
never forbidden your going to Paris, nor refused to accom- 
pany you there. You may go with me to-morrow if you 
can be ready.” 


^40 When The World Was Younger. 

Which you know I cannot, or you would scarce make 
so liberal an offer. 

Tr^s ch^re, you are pleased to be petulant. But I re- 
peat my question. Is there anything you want at Paris ? 

Anything ? A million things ! Everything ! But 
they are things which you would not be able to choose — 
except, perhaps, some of the new lace. I might trust you 
to buy that, though I"ll wager you will bring me a hideous 
pattern — and some white Cyprus powder — and a piece of 
the ash-colored velvet madame wore last winter. I have 
friends who can choose for you, if I write to them ; and 
you will have to bring the goods, and see they suffer no 
harm on the voyage. And you can go to the Eue de 
Touraine and see whether my servants are keeping the 
house in tolerable order. 

With your ladyship^s permission I will lodge there while 
I am in Paris, which will be but long enough to attend the 
sale of books, and see some old friends. If I am detained it 
will be by finding my friends out of town, and having to 
make a journey to see them. I shall not go beyond Fon- 
tainebleau at furthest."’^ 

Dear Fontainebleau ! It is of all French palaces my 
favorite. I always envy Diana of Poitiers having her 
cypher emblazoned all over that lovely gallery — Henri and 
Diana ! Diana and Henri ! Ah, me ! 

You envy her a kind of notoriety which I do not covet 
for my wife 1 

You always take one ^ au pied de la lettre ; ^ but seri- 
ously, Madame de Breze was an honest woman compared 
with the lady who lodges by the Holbein Gate.^^ 

I admit that sin wears a bolder front than it did in the 
last century. Angela, can I find nothing for you in Paris ? 

"" Ho ; I thank your lordship. You and sister are both so 
generous to me that I have lost capacity to wish for any- 
thing.” 


Falcon And Dove. 


241 


And as Lewin crosses the Channel three or four times 
a year, I doubt we positively have the Paris fashions as 
soon as the Parisians themselves,” added Hyacinth. 

That is an agreeable hallucination with which English- 
women have ever comforted themselves for not being 
French,” said He Malfort, who sat lolling against the marble 
balustrade, nursing the guitar on which he had been play- 
ing when Eareham interrupted their noontide idleness ; 

but your ladyship may be sure that London milliners are 
ever a twelvemonth in the rear of Paris fashions. It is not 
that they do not see the new mode. They see it, and think 
it hideous ; and it takes a year to teach them that it is the 
one perfect style possible.” 

^‘1 was not thinking of kerchiefs or petticoats,” said 
Eareham. ^^You are a book-lover, sister, like myself. 
Can I bring you no books you wish for ? ” 

If there were a new comedy by Moliere ; but I fear it 
is wrong to read him since in his late play performed be- 
fore the king at Versailles, he is so cruel an enemy to our 
Church.” 

A foe only to hypocrites and pretenders, Angela. I 
will bring you his ^ Tartulfe,'’ if it is printed ; or still better, 
^ Le Misanthrope,^ which I am told is the finest comedy 
that was ever written ; and the latest romance, in twenty 
volumes or so by one of those lady authors Hyacinth so ad- 
mires ; but which I own to finding as tedious as the divine 
Orinda^s verses.” 

You can jeer at that poor lady's poetry, yet take pleasure 
in such balderdash as Hudibras.” 

I love wit, dearest ; though I am not witty. But as 
for your Princess de Cleves, I find her ineffably dull.” 

That is because you do not take the trouble to discover 
for whom the characters are meant. You lack the key to 
the imbroglio,” said his wife, with a superior air. 

‘^I do not care for a book that is a series of enigmas. 

16 


2^2 When The World Was Younger. 

Don Quixote needs no such guess-work. Shakespere^s char- 
acters are painted not from the petty models of yesterday 
and to-day, but from mankind in every age and every cli- 
mate. Moliere’s and Calderon’s personages stand on as 
solid a basis. In less than half a century your ^ Grand 
Cyrus’ will be insufferable jargon.” 

[Mot more so than your Hamlet or Othello. Shakespere 
was but kept in fashion during the late king’s reign be- 
cause his majesty loved him — and will soon be forgotten 
now that we have so many gayer and brisker dramatists.” 

Whoever quotes Shakespere, nowadays ? ” asked Lady 
Sarah Tewkesbury, who had been showing a rustic niece 
the beauties of the river, as seen from Fareham House. 

Even Mr. Taylor, whose sermons bristle with elegant 
allusions, never points one of his passionate climaxes with 
a Shakesj3erian line. And yet there are some very fine lines 
in Hamlet and Macbeth, which would scarce sound amiss 
from the pulpit,” added her ladyship, condescendingly. 

I have read all the plays, some of them twice over. And 
I doubt that though Shakespere cannot hold the stage in 
our more enlightened age, and will be less and less acted 
as the towns grow more refined, his works will always be 
tested by scholars ; among whom, in my modest way, I 
dare reckon myself.” 

Lord Fareham left London on horseback, with but one 
servant, in the early August dawn, before the rest of the 
household were stirring. Hyacinth lay nearly as late of a 
morning as Henrietta Maria, whom Charles used sometimes 
to reproach for not being up in time for the noonday office 
at her own chapel. Lady Fareham had not Queen Cath- 
erine’s fervor, who was often at Mass at seven o’clock, but 
she did usually contrive to be present at High Mass at the 
queen’s chapel ; and this was the beginning of her day. 
While for Angela and her niece and nephew the day was 
old at noon. They had spent hours on the river, or in the 


Falcon And Dove. 


243 


meadows at Chiswick, or on Putney Heath, ever glad 
to escape from the great overgrown city, which was now 
licking up every stretch of greensward, and every flowery 
hedgerow west of St. Jameses Street. Soon there would he 
no country between the Haymarket and “ the Pillars of 
Hercules.'’'' 

Henzil sometimes enjoyed the privilege of accompanying 
Angela, children and the gouvernante, on these rural expedi- 
tions by the great water-way ; and on these occasions he 
and Angela would each take an oar and row the boat for 
some part of the voyage, while the watermen rested, and in 
this manner Angela, instructed by Sir Denzil, considerably 
advanced her power as an oarswoman. It was an exercise 
she loved, as indeed she loved all out-of-door exercises, 
from riding with hawks and hounds to battledore and 
shuttlecock. But most of all, she loved the river, and the 
rhythmical dip of oars in the fresh morning air when every 
curve of the fertile shores seemed to reveal new beauty. 

It had been a hot, dry summer, and the grass in the 
parks was burnt to a dull brown, had, indeed, almost 
ceased to be grass, while the atmosphere in town had a 
fiery taste, and was heavy with the dust which whitened all 
the roadways, and which the faintest breath of wind dis- 
persed. Here on the flowing tide there was coolness, and 
the long rank grass upon those low sedgy shores was still 
green. 

LadyFareham supported the August heats sitting on 
her terrace, with a cluster of friends about her, and her 
musicians and singing-boys grouped in the distance, ready 
to perform at her bidding ; but Henriette and her brother 
were tired of that luxurious repose, and would urge their 
aunt to assist in a river expedition. The gouvernante was 
fat and lazy and good-tempered, had attended upon Hen- 
riette from babyhood, and always did as she was told. 

^"Her ladyship says I must have some clever person 


244 


When The World Was Younger. 


instead of Priscilla, before I am a year older,” Henriette 
told her aunt ; but I have promised poor old Prissy to 
hate her consumedly.” 

Angela and Denzil laughed as they rowed past the ruined 
abbey, seen dimly across the low water-meadow, where 
cows of the same color were all lying in the same attitude, 
chewing the cud. 

I think Mr. Spavinger^s trick must have cured your 
sisters fine friends of all belief in ghosts,” he said. 

I doubt they would be as ready to believe — or to pre- 
tend to believe — to-morrow,” answered Angela. They 
think of nothing from morning till night but how to amuse 
themselves ; and when every pleasure has been exhausted, 
I suppose fear comes in as a form of entertainment, and 
they want the shock of seeing a ghost.” 

There have been no more midnight parties since Lady 
SaralPs assembly, I think ? ” 

“Not among people of quality, perhaps ; but there have 
been citizens^ parties. I heard Monsieur De Malfort tell- 
ing my sister about a supper given by a wealthy wine- 
coopePs lady from Aldersgate. The city people copy every- 
thing that their superiors wear or do.” 

“ Even to their morals,” said Denzil. “ ^ Twere happy 
if the so-called superiors would remember that, and upon 
what a fertile ground they sow the seed of new vices. It 
is like the importation of a new weed or a new insect, 
which, beginning with an accident, may end in ruined crops 
and famine.” 

Without deliberate disobedience to her husband. Lady 
Eareham made the best use of her time during his absence 
in Paris. The public theaters had not yet re-opened after 
the horror of the plague. Whitehall was a desert, the 
king and his chief following being at Tunbridge. It was 
the dullest season of the year, and, recrudescence of the 
contagion in the low-lying towns along the Thames — Dept- 


Falcon And Dove. 


245 

ford, Greenwich, and the neighborhood — together with 
some isolated cases in London, made people more serious 
than usual, despite of the so-called victory over the Dutch, 
which, although a mixed benefit, was celebrated piously by 
a day of general thanksgiving. 

Hyacinth, disgusted at the dullness of the town, was for 
ordering her coaches and retiring to Chilton. 

It is mortal dull at the Abbey, she said, hut at least 
we have the hawks and breezy hills to ride over, instead of 
this sickly city atmosphere, which to my nostrils smells of 
the pestilence.” 

Henri de Malfort argued against such a retreat. 

It were a deliberate suicide,” he said. London, 
when everybody has left — all the bodies we count worthy 
to live, par exemple — is a more delightful place than you 
can imagine. There are a host of vulgar amusements 
which you would not dare to visit when your friends are 
in town ; and which are ten times as amusing as the pleas- 
ures you know by heart. Have you ever been to the Bear 
Garden ? Fll warrant you no, though Tis but across the 
river at Bankside. Wedl go there this afternoon, if you 
like, and see how the common people taste life. Then 
there are the gardens at Islington. There are mounte- 
banks, and palmers, and fortune-tellers, who will frighten 
you out of your wits for a shilling. There^s a man at 
Clerkenwell, a jeweler’s journeyman from Venice, who 
pretends to practice the transmutation, of metals and 
to make gold. He squeezed hundreds out of that old 
miser Denham, who was afraid to prosecute him for im- 
posture, lest all London should laugh at his own credulity 
and applaud the cheat. And you have not seen the 
Italian puppet-play, which is vastly entertaining. I could 
find you novelty and amusement for a month. 

Find anything new, even if it fails to amuse me. I 
am sick of everything I know. 


246 When The World Was Younger. 

And then there is our midnight party at Millbank, the 
ghost party, at which you are to frighten your dearest 
friends out of their poor little wits.” 

Most of my dearest friends are in the country.” 

l^ay, there is a Lady Lucretia Topham, whom I know 
you hate ; and Lady Sarah and the Dubbins are still in 
Covent Garden.” 

I will have no Dubbin — a toping wretch — and she is 
a too incongruous mixture, with her Edinburgh lingo and 
her Whitehall arrogance. Besides, the whole notion of a 
mock ghost was vulgarized by Wilmot’s foolery, who 
ought to have been born a saltimbanque, and spent his 
life in a fair. No, I have abandoned the scheme. 

What, after I have been taxing my invention to pro- 
duce the most terrible illusion that was ever witnessed ? 
Will you let a clown like Spavinger — a well-known stable- 
boy — balk us of our triumph ? I am sending to Paris for 
a powder to burn in a corner of the room, which will throw 
the ghastliest pallor upon your countenance. When I de- 
vise a ghost, it shall be no impromptu specter in yellow 
riding-boots, but a vision so awful, so true an image of a 
being returned from the dead, that the stoutest nerves will 
thrill and tremble at the apparition. The nun^s habit is 
coming from Paris. I have asked my cousin, Madame de 
Fiesque, to obtain it for me at the Carmelites.” 

You are taking a vast deal of trouble. Bnt what kind 
of assembly can we muster at this dead season ? ” 

Leave all in my hands. I will find you some of the 
choicest spirits. It is to be my party. I will not even tell 
you what night I fix upon till all is ready. So make no 
engagements for your evenings, and tell nobody anything.” 

Who invented that powder ?” 

A French chemist. He has it of all colors, and can 
flood a scene in golden light, or the rose of dawn, or the 
crimson of sunset, or a pale silvery blueness that you 


Falcon And Dove. 


247 


would swear was moonshine. It has been used in all the 
court ballets. I saw Madame once look as ghastly as death 
itself, and all the court seized with terror. They had 
burnt the wrong powder, which cast a greenish tint over 
the faces, and her long thin features had a look of death. 
It seemed the forecast of an early grave ; and some of us 
shuddered, as at a prophecy of evil.^'’ 

You might expect the worst in her case, knowing the 
wretched life she leads with Monsieur.^’ 

Yes, when she is with him ; but that is not always. 
There are compensations.” 

If you mean scandal, I will not hear a word. She is 
adorable. The most sympathetic person I know — good 
even to her enemies — who are legion.” 

You had better not say that, fori doubt she has only 
one kind of enemy.” 

As how ? ” 

The admirers she has encouraged and disappointed. 
Yes, she is adorable, wofully thin, and I fear consumptive ; 
but royal, and adorable, douceur et lumiere,^ as Bossuet 
calls her. But to return to my ghost-party.” 

If you were wise, you would abandon the notion. 
I doubt that in spite of your powders your friends will 
never believe in a ghost.” 

Oh yes, they will. It shall be my business to get 
them in the proper temper.” 

That idea of figuring in a picturesque habit, and in a 
halo of churchyard light, was irresistible. Hyacinth prom- 
ised to conform to MalforFs plans, and to be ready to 
assume her phantom role whenever she was called upon. 

Angela knew something of the scheme, and that there 
was to be another assembly at Millbank ; but her sister 
had not invited her to assist in it, and had seemed disin- 
clined to talk of it, in her presence a curious reticence 
one whose sentiments and caprices were usually given tp, 


248 When The World Was Younger. 

the world at large with perfect freedom. For once in her 
life Hyacinth had a secret air, and checked herself sud- 
denly in the midst of her light babble at a look from De 
Malfort, who had urged her to keep her sister out of their 
midnight party. 

I pledge my honor that there shall be nothing to of- 
fend,” he told her, but I hope to have the wittiest cox- 
combs in London, and we want no prudes to strangle the 
jest in their throats with a long-drawn lip and an alarmed 
eye. Your sister has a pale fritilleuse prettiness which 
pleases an eye satiated with the exuberant charms of your 
Eubens and Titian women ; but she is not handsome 
enough to give herself airs ; and she is a little inclined 
that way. By the faith of a gentleman I have suffered 
scowls from her that I would scarce have endured from 
Barbara.” 

Barbara ! You are vastly free with her ladyship’s 
name.” 

Not freer than she has ever been with her friend- 
ship.” 

Henri, if I thought ” 

What, dearest ? ” 

That you had ever cared for that — wanton ” 

Could you think it, when you know my life in Eng- 
land has been one long tragedy of loving in vain — of sigh- 
ing only to be denied — of secret tears — and public submis- 
sion.” 

^^Do not talk so,” she exclaimed, starting up from her 
low tabouret, and moving hastily to the open window, to 
fresh air and sunshine, rippling river and blue sky, escap- 
ing from an atmosphere that had become feverish. 

De Malforb, you know I must not listen to foolish rapt- 
ures.” 

I know you have been refusing to hear for the last two. 
years.” 


Falcon And Dove. 


249 


They were on the terrace now, she leaning on the broad 
marble balustrade, he standing beside her, and all the 
traffic of London moving with the tide below them. 

To return to our party, she said, in a lighter tone, 
for that spurt of jealousy had betrayed her into serious- 
ness. It will be very awkward not to invite my sister to 
go with me.^'’ 

If you did she would refuse, belike, for she is under 
Fareham^s thumb ; and he disapproves of everything 
human.” 

Under Fareham^s thumb! What nonsense! Indeed 
I must invite her. She would think it so strange to be 
omitted.” 

ISTot if you manage things cleverly. The party is to 
he a surprise. You can tell her next morning you knew 
nothing about it beforehand.” 

But she will hear me order the barge — or will see me 
start.” 

There will he no barge. I shall carry you to Millhank 
in my coach, after your evening^’s entertainment, wherever 
that may be.” 

I had better take my own carriage at least, or my 
chair.” 

You can have a chair, if you are too prudish to use 
my coach, but it shall he got for you at the moment. We 
wonT have your own chairmen and links to chatter 
and betray you before you have played the ghost. Ee- 
memher you come to my party not as a guest but as a per- 
former. If they ask why Lady Far eh am is absent, I shall 
say you refused to take part in our foolery.” 

Oh, you must invent some better excuse. They will 
never believe anything rational of me. Say I was disap- 
pointed of a hat or a mantua. Well, it shall be as you 
wish. Angela is apt to be tiresome. I hate a disapproving 
carriage, even in a younger sister.” 


250 When The World Was Younger. 

Angela was puzzled by Hyacinth^s demeanor. A want 
of frankness in one so frank by nature aroused her fears. 
She was puzzled and anxious, and longed for Fareham^s 
return, lest his giddy-pated wife should be guilty of some 
innocent indiscretion that might vex him. 

Oh, if she but valued him at his just worth she 
would value his opinion second only to the approval of 
conscience, she thought, sadly, ever regretful of her 
sister's too obvious indifference toward so kind a husband. 


CHAPTEE XVI. 

WHICH WAS THE EIEKCER EIKE ? 

It was Saturday, the first of September, and the hot dry 
weather having continued with but trifiing changes 
throughout the month, the atmosphere was at its sultriest, 
and the burnt grass in the parks looked as if even the dews 
of morning and evening had ceased to moisten it, while 
the arid and dusty foliage gave no feeling of coolness, and 
the very shadows cast upon that parched ground seemed 
hot. Morning was sultry as noon, evening brought but 
little refreshment, while the night was hotter than the 
day. People complained that the season was even more 
sickly than in the plague year, and prophesied a new and 
worse outbreak of the pestilence. Was not this the fatal 
year about which there had been darkest prophecies ? 1666 ! 
Something awful, something tragical was to make this 
triplicate of sixties for ever memorable. Sixty-five had 
been terrible, sixty-six was to bring a greater horror ; 
doubtless a recrudescence of that dire malady which had 
desolated London. 


Which Was The Fiercer Fire ? 


251 


“ And this time/^ sa3"s one modish raven, ^twill be the 
quality that will suffer. The lower ^ classis ^ has paid its 
penalty, and only the strong and hardy are left. We have 
plenty of weaklings and corrupt constitutions that will 
take fire at a spark. I should not wonder were the con- 
tagion to rage worst at Whitehall. The buildings lie low, 
and there is ever a nucleus of fever somewhere in that 
conglomeration of slaughter-houses, bakeries, kitchens, 
stables, cider-houses, coal-yards, and overcrowded servants^ 
lodgings. 

One gets but casual whiffs from their private butch- 
eries and bakeries, says another. What I complain of 
is the atmosphere of his majesty’s apartments, where one 
can scarce breathe for the odor of those cursed spaniels he 
so delights in.” 

Every one agreed that the long dry summer menaced 
some catastrophic change which should surprise this easy- 
going age as the plague had done last year. But oh, how 
lightly that widespread calamity had touched those light 
minds ; and, if Providence had designed to warn or to 
punish, how vain had been the warning, and how soon 
forgotten the penalty that had left the worst offenders 
unstricken ! 

There was to be a play at Whitehall that evening, his 
majesty and the Court having returned from Tunbridge 
Wells, the business of the navy, calling Charles to council 
with his faithful general — the general par excellence, 
George Monk, Duke of Albemarle, and the Lord High 
Admiral and brother — par excellence the duke. Even in 
briefest residence, and on sternest business intent, with 
the welfare and honor of the nation contingent on their 
consultations, to build or not to build warships of the first 
magnitude, the ball of pleasure must be kept rolling. So 
Killigrew was to produce a new version of an old comedy, 
written in the forties, but now polished up to the modern 


2^2 When The World Was Younger. 

style of wit. This new-old play, The Parson^s Widow, 
was said to he all froth and sparkle and current interest, 
fresh as the last London Gazette,^'’ and full of allusions 
to the late sickness, an admirable subject, and allowing a 
wide field for the ridiculous. Hyacinth was to be present 
at this Court function ; but not a word was to be said to 
Angela about the entertainment. 

She would only preach me a sermon upon Fareham^s 
tastes and wishes, and urge me to stay away because he 
abhors a fashionable comedy,” she told He Malfort. I 
shall say I am going to Lady Sarali^’s to play basset. Ange 
hates cards, and will not desire to go with me. She is al- 
ways happy with the children, who adore her.” 

^^Faute de mieux.” 

You are so ready to jeer ! Yes, I know I am a neg- 
lectful mother. But what would you have ? ” 

would have you as you are,” he answered, ^^and only 
as you are ; or for choice a trifle worse than you are ; and 
so much nearer my own level.” 

Oh, I know you ! It is the wicked women you admire 
— like Madame Palmer.” 

Always harping upon Barbara. My mother had a 
maid called Barbara. His majesty has — a lady of the same 
melodious name. Well, I have a world of engagements 
between now and nine oYlock, when the play begins. I 
shall be at the door to lift you out of your chair. Cover 
yourself with your richest jewels — or at least those you 
love best. All the town will be there to admire you.” 

All the town ! Why there is no one in London.” 

Indeed, you mistake. Traveling is so easy nowadays. 
People tear to and fro between Tunbridge and St. Jameses 
as often as they once circulated betwixt London and 
Chelsea. Were it not for the highwaymen we should be 
always on the road.” 

Angela and her niece were on the terrace in the evening 


Which Was The Fiercer Fire ? 


253 

coolness. The atmosphere was less oppressive here by the 
flowing tide than anywhere else in London ; but even here 
there was a heaviness in the night air, and Henriette 
sprawled her long thin legs wearily on the cushioned bench 
where she lay, and vowed that it would be sheer folly for 
Priscilla to insist upon her going to bed at her usual hour 
of nine, when everybody knew she could not sleep. 

I scarce closed my eyes last night,^^ she protested, 
and I had half a mind to put on a petticoat and come 
down to the terrace. I could have come through the 
yellow drawing-room, where the men usually forget to 
close the shutters. And I should have brought my theorbo 
perhaps and serenaded you. Should you have taken me 
for a fairy, chere, if you had heard me singing 

I should have taken you for a very silly little person 
who wanted to frighten her friends by catching an inflam- 
mation of the lungs. 

Well, you see, I thought better of it, though it would 
have been impossible to catch cold on such a stifling night. 
I heard every clock strike in Westminster and London. It 
was light at five, yet the night seemed endless. I would 
have welcomed even a mouse behind the wainscot. Priscilla 
is an odious tyrant, making a face at the easy-tempered 
governess sitting by ; ^‘'she wonT let me have my dogs in 
my room at night.'’"’ 

‘^Your ladyship knows that dogs in a bedchamber are 
unwholesome,” said Priscilla. 

Yo, you foolish old thing ; my ladyship knows the 
contrary ; for his majesty’s bedchamber swarms with them, 
and he has them on his bed even — whole families — mothers 
and their puppies. Why can’t I have a few dear little 
mischievous innocents to amuse me in the long dreary 
nights ? ” 

By dint of clamor and expostulation the Honorable 
Henriette contrived to stay up till ten o’clock was belled 


254 When The World Was Younger. 

with solemn tone from St. Paurs Cathedral, which magnif- 
icent church was speedily to be put in hand for restoration, 
at a great expenditure. The wooden scaffolding which 
had been necessary for a careful examination of the build- 
ing was still up, and somewhat disguised the beauty of 
that grand steeple, whose summit seemed to touch the low 
summer stars. Until the striking of the great city clock, 
Papillon had resolutely disputed the lateness of the hour, 
putting forward her own timekeeper as infallible — a little 
fat round purple enamel watch with diamond figures, and 
gold hands much bent from being twisted backwards and 
forwards, to bring recorded time into unison with the 
young lady^’s desires — a watch to which no sensible person 
could give the slightest credit. The clocks of London 
having demonstrated the futility of any reference to that 
ill-used Geneva toy, she consented to retire, but was 
reluctant to the last. 

I am going to bed,^'’ she told her aunt, because this 
absurd old Prissy insists upon it, but I donT expect a 
quarter of an houPs sleep between now and morning ; and 
most of the time I shall be looking out of the window, 
watching for the turn of the tide, to see the barges and 
boats swinging round. 

You will do nothing of the kind, Mrs. Henriette ; for 
I shall sit in your room till you are sound asleep,” said 
Priscilla. 

Then you will have to sit there all night ; and I shall 
have somebody to talk to.” 

I shall not allow you to talk.” 

Will you gag me, or put a pillow over me like the 
blackamoor in the play ? ” 

The minx and her governess retired, still disputing, 
after Angela had been desperately hugged by Henriette, 
who brimmed over with warmest affection in the midst of 
her insolence. They were gone, their voices sounding in 


Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 255 

the stillness on the terrace^, and then on the staircase, and 
through the great empty rooms, Avhere the windows were 
open to the sultry night, while the host of idle servants 
caroused in the basement, in a spacious room, with a 
vaulted roof like a college hall, where they were free to be 
as noisy or as drunken as they pleased. My lady was out, 
had taken only her chair, and running footmen, and had 
sent chairmen and footmen back from Whitehall, with an 
intimation that they would be wanted no more that 
night. 

Angela lingered on the terrace in the sultry summer 
gloom, watching solitary boats moving to and fro, shadowy 
as CharoiFs. She dreaded the stillness of silent rooms, 
and to be alone with her own thoughts, which were not 
of the happiest. Her sisteFs relations with De Malfort 
troubled her, innocent as they doubtless were — innocent 
as that close friendship of Henrietta of England with her 
cousin of France, when they two spent the fair midsummer 
nights roaming in palace gardens — close as lovers, but only 
fast friends. Malicious tongues had babbled even of that 
innocent friendship ; and there w’^ere those who said that 
if monsieur behaved like a brute to his lovely young wife, 
it was because he had good reason for jealousy of Louis in 
the past as well as of He Guiche in the present. These 
innocent friendships are ever the cause of uneasiness to 
the lookers-on. It is like seeing children at play on the 
edge of a cliff — they are too near danger and destruction. 

Hyacinth, being about as able to carry a secret as to 
carry an elephant, had betrayed by a hundred indications 
that a plot of some kind was being hatched between her 
and De Malfort. And to night, before going out, she had 
made too much fuss about so simple a matter as a basset- 
party at Lady Sarah's, who had her basset-table every 
night, and was popularly supposed to keep house upon her 
winnings, and to have no higher code of honor than De 


256 When The World Was Younger. 

Grammont had when he invited a brother officer to supper 
on purpose to rook him. 

Mr. Killigrew^s comedy had been discussed in Angela’s 
hearing. People who had been deprived of the theater 
for over a year were greedy and eager spectators of all 
the plays produced at court ; but this production was an 
exceptional event. Killigrew’s wit and impudence and 
impecuniosity were the talk of the town, and anything 
written by that audacious jester was sure to be worth hear- 
ing. 

Had her sister gone to Whitehall to see the new comedy, 
in direct disobedience to her husband, instead of to so 
accustomed an entertainment as Lady Sarah’s basset-table ? 
And was that the only mystery beneath Hyacinth and 
He Malfort ? Or was there something else — some ghost- 
party, such as they had planned and talked about openly 
till a fortnight ago, and had suddenly dropped alto- 
gether, as if the notion were abandoned and forgotten ? 
It was so unlike Hyacinth to be secret about anything ; 
and her sister feared, therefore, that there was some plot of 
He Malfort’s contriving — He Malfort, whom she regarded 
with distrust and even repugnance ; for she could recall 
no sentiment of his that did not make for evil. Beneath 
that gossamer veil of airy language which he flung 
over visions and theories, the conscienceless, unrelenting 
character of the man had been discovered by those clear 
eyes of the meditative onlooker. Alas, what a man to be 
her sister’s closest friend, claiming privileges by long as- 
sociation, which Hyacinth would have been the last to 
grant her dissolute admirers of yesterday ; but which were 
only the more perilous for those memories of childhood - 
that justifled a so dangerous friendship. 

She was startled from these painful reflections by the 
clatter of horses’ hoofs on the paved courtyard east of 
the house, and the jingle of swordbelts and bits, sounds 


Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 257 

instantly followed by the ringing of the bell at the prin- 
cipal door. 

Was it her sister coming home so early ? No ; Lady 
Fareham had gone out in her chair. Was it his lordship 
returning unannounced ? He had stated no time for his 
return, telling his wife only that, on his business in Paris 
being finished, he would come back without delay. Indeed, 
Hyacinth had debated the chances of his arrival this very 
evening with half a dozen of her particular friends, who 
knew that she was going to see Mr. Killigrew^s play. 

Fate cannot be so perverse as to bring him back on 
the only night when his return would be troublesome,” 
she said. 

Fate is always perverse, and a husband is very lucky 
if there is but one day out of seven on which his return 
would be troublesome,” answered one of her gossips. 

Fate had been perverse, for Angela heard her brother-in- 
law^s deep strong voice talking in the hall, and presently 
he came down the marble steps in the terrace, and came 
towards her, white with Kentish dust, and carrying an open 
letter in his hand. She had risen at the sound of the 
bell, and was hurrying to the house as he met her. He 
came close up to her, scarcely according her the civility of 
greeting. Never had she seen his countenance more 
gloomy. 

You can tell me truer than those drunken devils 
below stairs,” he said. Where is your sister ?” 

At Lady Sarah Tewkesbury^s.” 

So her major-domo swears ; but her chairmen, whom 
I found asleep in the hall, say they set her down at the 
palace.” 

At Whitehall?” 

Yes, at Whitehall. There is a modish performance 
there to-night, I hear ; but I doubt it is over, for the 
Strand was crowded with hackney coaches moving east- 

17 


258 When The World Was Younger. 

ward. I passed a pair of handsome eyes in a gilded chair, 
that flashed at me as I rode by, which Ifll swear were Mrs. 
Palmer^ and waiting for me in the hall, I found this letter, 
that had just been handed in by a link, who doubtless 
belonged to the same lady. Bead, Angela ; it is scarce 
long enough to weary you.” 

She took the letter from him with a hand that trembled 
so that she could hardly hold the sheet of paper. 

Watch ! There is an intrigue afoot this night ; and 
you must be a greater dullard than I think you if you 
cannot unmask a deceitful ” 

The word was one which modern manners forbid in speech 
or printed page. Angela^s pallid cheek flushed crimson at 
the sight of the vile epithet. Oh, insane lightness of con- 
duct which made such an insult possible ! Standing there, 
confronting the angry husband, with that detestable paper 
in her hand, she felt a pang of compunction at the thought 
that she might have been more strenuous in her arguments 
with her sister, more earnest and constant in reproof. 
When the peace and good repute of two lives were at stake, 
was it for her to consider any question of older or younger, 
or to be restrained by the fear of offending a sister who 
had been so generous and indulgent to her ? 

Fareham saw her distress, and looked at her with angry 
suspicion. 

Come,” he said, scarce expected a lying answer 
from you ; and yet you join with servants to deceive me. 
You know your sister is not at Lady SaralTs.” 

know nothing, except that, wherever she is, I will 
vouch that she is innocently employed, and has done 
nothing to deserve that infamous aspersion,” giving him 
back the letter. 

"^Innocently employed! You carry matters with a 
high hand. Innocently employed, in a company of she- 
profligates, listening to Killigrew's ribald jokes — Killigrew, 


Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 259 

the profanest of them all, who can turn the gi’eatest ca- 
lamity this city ever suffered to blasphemy and jeering. 
Innocently employed, in direct disobedience to her hus- 
band ! So innocently employed that she makes her serv- 
ants — and her sister — tell lies to cover her innocence ! 

Hector as much as you please, I have told your lord- 
ship no lies ; and, with your permission, I will leave 5^011 
to recover your temper before my sister^s return, which I 
doubt not will happen within the next hour/^ 

She moved quickly past him towards the house. 

Angela, forgive me ” he began, trying to detain 

her ; but she hurried on through the open French window 
and ran upstairs to her room, where she locked herself in. 

For some minutes she walked up and down, profoundly 
agitated, thinking out the position of affairs. To Fareham 
she had carried matters with a high hand, but she was full 
of fear. The play was over, and her sister, who doubtless 
had been among the audience, had not come home. Was 
she staying at the palace, gossiping with the maids-of- 
honor, shining among that brilliant unscrupulous crowd, 
where intrigue was in the very air, where no woman was 
credited with virtue, and every man was remorseless ? 

The anonymous letter scarcely influenced Angela^s 
thoughts in these agitated moments — that was but a foul 
assault on character by a foul-minded woman. But the 
furtive confabulations of the past week must have had 
some motive ; and her sisteFs fluttered manner before 
leaving the house had marked this night as the crisis of the 
plot. 

Angela could imagine nothing but that ghostly mas- 
querading which had, in the flrst place, been discussed 
freely in her presence ; and she could but wonder that De 
Malfort and her sister should have made a mystery about 
a plan which she had known in its inception. The more 
deeply she considered all the circumstances, the more she 


26 o When The World Was Younger. 

inclined to suspect some evil intention on De Malfort’s part, 
of which Hyacinth, so frank, so shallow, might be too easy 
a dupe. 

I do little good doubting and suspecting and wonder- 
ing here,’’ she said to herself ; and after hastily lighting 
the candles on her toilet-table, she began to unlace the 
bodice of her light-colored silk mantua, and in a few min- 
utes had changed her elegant evening attire for a dark 
cloth gown, short in the skirt, and loose in the sleeves, 
which had been made for her to wear upon the river. In 
this costume she could handle a pair of sculls as freely as 
a waterman. 

When she had put on a little black silk hood, she extin- 
guished her candles, pulled aside the curtain which ob- 
scured the open window, and looked out on the terrace. 
There was just light enough to show her that the coast was 
clear. The iron gate at the top of the water-stairs was 
seldom locked, nor were the boat-houses often shut, as 
boats were being taken in and out at all hours, and, for 
the rest, neglect and carelessness might always be reckoned 
upon in the Fareham household. 

She ran lightly down a side staircase, and so by an ob- 
scure door to the river-front. Ho, the gate w^as not locked, 
and there was not a creature within sight to observe or 
impede her movements. She went down the steps to the 
paved quay below the garden terrace. The house where 
the wherries were kept was wide open, and, better still, 
there was a skiff moored by the side of the steps, as if wait- 
ing for her ; and she had but to take a pair of sculls from 
the rack and step into the boat, unmoor and away west- 
ward, with swift dipping oars, in the soft summer silence, 
broken now and then by sounds of singing — a tipsy, un- 
melodious strain, perhaps, were it heard too near, but 
musical in the distance — as the rise and fall of voices crept 
along a reach of running water. 


Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 261 

The night was hot and oppressive, even on the river. 
But better here than anywhere else ; and Angela breathed 
more freely as she bent over her sculls, rowing with all 
her might, intent upon reaching that landing-stage she 
knew of in the very shortest possible time. The boat was 
heavy, but she had the swift incoming tide to help her. 

Was Fareham hunting for his wife, she wondered. 
Would he go to Lady Sarah's lodgings, in the first place, 
and not finding Hyacinth there, to Whitehall ? And then, 
would he remember the assembly at Millbank, in which 
he had taken no part, and apparently no interest ? And 
would he extend his search to the ruined abey ? At the 
most, Angela would be there before him, to prepare her 
sister for the angry suspicions which she would have to 
meet. He was not likely to think of that place till he had 
exhausted all other chances. 

It was not much more than a mile from Fareham House 
to that desolate bit of country betwixt Westminster and 
Chelsea, where the modern dairy-farm occupied the old 
monkish pastures. As Angela ran her boat inshore, she 
expected to see Venetian lanterns, and to hear music and 
voices, and all the indication of a gay assembly ; but there 
was only silence and darkness, save for one lighted window 
in the dairyman^’s dwelling-house, and she thought that 
she had come upon a futile errand, and had been mistaken 
in her conjectures. 

She moored her boat to the wooden landing-stage, and 
went on shore to examine the premises. The party might 
be designed for a later hour, though it was now near mid- 
night, and Lady Sarah^’s party had assembled at eleven. 
She walked across a meadow, where the dewy grass was 
cool under her feet, and so to the open space in front of 
the dairyman’s house — a shabby building attached like a 
wen to the ruined refectory. 

She started at hearing the snort of a horse, and the jin- 


262 When The World Was Younger. 

gling of bit and curb-chain, and came suddenly upon a 
coach and four, with a couple of post-boys standing beside 
their team. 

Whose coach is this she asked. 

Mr. Malfy^s, your ladyship.” 

^^The French gentleman from St. James^ Street, my 
lady,” explained the other man. 

Did you bring Monsieur De Malfort here ? ” 

^‘No, madam. We was told to be here at eleven, with 
horses as fresh as fire, and the poor tits are mighty im- 
patient to be moving. Steady, Champion ! Youfil have 

to work enough this side Dartford ” to the near leader, 

who was shaking his head vehemently, and pawing the 
gravel. 

Angela waited to ask no further questions, but made 
straight for the unglazed windows, through which Mi*. 
Spavinger and his companions had entered. There was 
no light in the great vaulted room, save the faint light 
of summer stars, and two figures were there in the dim- 
ness — a woman standing straight and tall in a satin gown, 
whose pale sheen reflected the starlight ; a woman whose 
right arm was flung above her head, bare and white, the 
hand clasping her brow distractedly ; and a man, who 
knelt at her feet, grasping the hand that hung at her side, 
looking up at her, and talking eagerly with passionate 
gestures. 

Her voice was clearer than his ; and Angela heard her 
repeating with a piteous shrillness, ^^Ho, no, no! No, 
Henri, no ! ” 

She stayed to hear no more, but sprang through the 
opening between the broken mullions, and rushed to her 
sisteFs side ; and as De Malfort started to his feet, she 
thrust him vehemently aside, and clasped Hyacinth in her 
arms. 

^^You here. Mistress Kill-joy?” he muttered, in a 


Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 263 

surly tone. May I ask what business brought you ? for 
I’ll swear you wasn’t invited.” 

have come to save my sister from a villain, sir. 
But oh, my sweet, I little dreamt thou hadst such need 
of me!” 

Nay, love, thou didst ever make tragedies out of noth- 
ing,” said Hyacinth, struggling to disguise hysterical 
tears with airy laughter. But I am right glad all the 
same that you are come ; for this gentleman has put a 
scurvy trick upon me, and brought me here on pretence 
of a gay assembly that has no existence.” 

He is a villain and a traitor,” said Angela, in deep, 
indignant tones. Dear love, thou hast been in danger 
I dare scarce think of. Fareham is searching for 
you.” 

Fareham! In London?” 

Returned scarce more than an hour ago. Hark ! ” 
She lifted her finger warningly as a bell rang, and the 
well-known voice sounded outside the house, calling to 
some one to open the door. 

He is here,” cried Hyacinth, distractedly. ^^For 
God’s sake, hide me from him ! Not for worlds — not for 
worlds would I meet him ! ” 

Nay, you have nothing to fear. It is Monsieur de 
Malfort who has to answer for what he has done.” 

Henri, he will kill you. Alas, you know not what he 
is in anger ! I have seen him, once in Paris, when he 
thought a man was insolent .to me. God ! the thunder of 
his voice, the blackness of his brow ! He will kill you ! 
Oh, if you love me — if you ever loved me — come out of his 
way. He is fatal with his sword ! ” 

And am I such a tyro at fence, or such a poltroon as 
to be afraid to meet him ? No, Hyacinth, I go with you 
to Dover, or I stand my ground and face him.” 

You shall not,” sobbed Hyacinth. I will not have 


264 When The World Was Younger. 

your blood on my head ! Come, come — by the garden — 
by the river.'’^ 

She dragged him towards the window : he pretending to 
resist, as Angela thought, yet letting himself be led as 
she pleased to lead him. They had but just crossed the 
yawning gap between the mullions and vanished into the 
night, when Fareham burst into the room with his sword 
drawn, and came towards Angela, who stood in shadow, 
her face half hidden in her close-fitting hood. 

So, madam, I have found you at last,^^ he said ; and 
in time to stop your journey, though not to save myself 
the dishonor of a wanton wife. But it is your paramour 
I want, not you. Where is that craven hiding ? 

He went back to the inhabited part of the house, and 
returned after a hasty examination of the premises, carry- 
ing the lamp whioh had lighted his search, only to find 
the same solitary figure in the vast bare room. Angela 
had moved nearer the window, and had sunk exhausted 
upon a large carved oak chair, which might be a relic of 
the monkish occupation. Fareham came to her with the 
lamp in his hand. 

He has given me a clean pair of heels, he said : but 
I know where to find him. It is but a pleasure postponed. 
And now, woman, you had best return to the house your 
folly, or your sin, has disgraced. For to-night at least, it 
must needs shelter you. Come ! ” 

The hooded figure rose at his bidding, and he saw the 
face in the lamplight. 

You ! he gasped. ^^You!^'’ 

Yes, Fareham, it is I. Cannot you take a kind view 
of a foolish business, and believe there has been only folly 
and no dishonor in the purpose that brought me here.'^ 

You ! he repeated. You ! 

His bearing was that of a man who staggers under a 
crushing blow, a stroke so unexpected that he can but 


Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 265 

wonder and suffer. He set down the lamp with a shaking 
hand, then took two or three hurried turns up and down 
the room ; then stopped abruptly the lamp snatched the 
anonymous letter from his breast, and read the lines over 
again. 

An intrigue on foot ^ No name. And I took it 

for granted my wife was meant. I looked for folly from 
her ; but wisdom, honor, purity, all the virtues from you. 
Oh, what was the use of my fortitude, what the motive 
of self-conquest here,” striking himself upon the breast, 
if you were unchaste ? Angela, you have broken my 
heart.” 

There was a long pause before she answered and her 
face was turned from him to hide the streaming tears. 
At last she was able to reply calmly — 

Indeed, Fareham, you do wrong to take this matter so 
passionately. You may trust my sister and me. On my 
honor, you have no cause to be angry with either of us.” 

And when I gave you this letter to read,” he went on, 
disregarding her protestations, you knew that you were 
coming here to meet a lover. You hurried away from me, 
dissembler as you were, to steal to this lonely place at mid- 
night, to fling yourself into his arms. Tell me where he is 
hiding, that I may kill him now, while I pant for vengeance. 
Such rage as mine cannot wait for idle forms. Now, now, 
now, is the time to reckon with your seducer ! ” 

Fareham, you cover me with insults ! ” 

He had rushed to the door, still carrying his naked sword ; 
but he turned back as she spoke, and stood looking at her 
from head to foot with a savage scornfulness. 

Insult !” he cried. You have sunk too low for in- 
sult. There are no words that I know vile enough to stig- 
matize such disgrace as yours I Do you know what you 
have been to me, woman ? A saint — a star ; ineffably pure, 
ineffably remote ; a creature to worship at a distance ; for 


266 When The World Was Younger. 

whom it was to sacrifice and repress all that is common to 
the base heart of man ; from whom a kind word was enough 
for happiness — so pure, so far away, so detached from this 
vile age we live in. God, how that saintly face has cheated 
me ! Mock saint, mock nun ; a creature of passions like 
my own, but more stealthy ; from top to toe an incarnate 
lie!^^ 

He flung out of the room, and she heard his footsteps 
about the house, and heard doors opened and shut. She 
waited for no more ; but, being sure by this time that her 
sister had left the premises, her own desire was to return 
to Fareham House as soon as possible, counting upon find- 
ing Hyacinth there ; yet with a sick fear that the seducer 
might take base advantage of her sisteFs terror and con- 
fused spirits, and hustle her off upon the fatal journey he 
had planned. 

The boat lay where she had moored it, at the foot of 
the wooden stair ; and she was stepping into it, when Fare- 
ham ran hastily to the bank. 

Your paramour has got clear off,” he said ; and then 
asked curtly, “How came you by that boat ?” 

“ I brought it from Fareham House.” 

What ! You came here alone by water, at so late an 
hour ? You heaven-born adventuress ! Other women need 
education in vice ; but to you it comes by nature.” 

He pulled off his doublet as he stepped into the boat ; 
then seated himself and took the sculls. 

“ Has your lordship not left a horse waiting for you ? ” 
Angela inquired hesitatingly. 

“ My lordship's horse will find his stables before morn- 
ing with the groom that has him in charge. I am going 
to row you home. Love expectant is bold ; but disappointed 
love may lack courage for a solitary jaunt after midnight. 
Come, mistress, let us have no ceremony. We have done 
with that forever — as we have done with friendship. 


Which Was The Fiercer Fire? 267 

There are thousands of women in England, all much of a 
pattern ; and you are one of them. That is the end of our 
romance. 

He bent to his work, and rowed with a steady stroke, 
and in a stubborn silence, which lasted till it was more 
strangely broken than such angry silence is apt to be. 

The tide was still running up, and it was as much as the 
single oarsman could do in that heavy boat to hold his own 
against the stream. 

Angela sat watching him, with her gaze rooted to that 
dark countenance and bare head, on which the iron-gray 
hair waved thick and strong, for Eareham had never con- 
sented to envelope his neck and shoulders in a mantle of 
dead men^s tresses, and wore his own hair after the fashion 
of Charles the FirsFs time. So intent was her watch, that 
the objects on either shore passed her like shadows in a 
dream. The primate^s palace on her right hand, as the 
boat swept round that great bend where the river makes 
opposite Lambeth Marsh; on her left, as they neared 
London, the stern grandeur of the Abbey and St. Mar- 
garet^s. It was only as they approached Whitehall that 
she became aware of a light upon the water which Avas not 
the reflection of daybreak, and, looking suddenly up, she 
saw the fierce glare of a conflagration in the eastern sky, 
and cried — 

There is a fire, my lord ! — a great fire, I doubt, in the 

city. 

The tall spire of St. Pauhs stood dark against the vivid 
splendor of that sky, and every timber in the scaffolding 
showed like a black lattice across the crimson and sulphur 
of raging flames. 

Eareham looked round, without moving his sculls from 
the rowlocks. 

A great fire in verity, mistress ! Would God it meant 
the fulfilment of prophecy ! 


^68 When The World Was Younger. 

What prophecy, sir ? 

The end of the world, with which we are threatened 
in this year. God, how the flames rage and mount. 
Would it were the great Are, and He had come to judge 
us, and to empty the vials of His wrath upon profligates 
and seducers.-’^ 

He looked at the face opposite, radiant with reflected 
rose and gold, supernatural in that strange light, and, oh, 
so calm in every line and feature, the large dark eyes meet- 
ing his with a gaze that seemed to him half indignant, half 
reproachful. 

Oh what hypocrites these women are ! ” he told him- 
self. And all alike — all alike. What comedians ! For 
acting one need not go to the duke^s or the king. One 
may see it at one^s own board, by one^s own hearth. Act- 
ing, nothing but acting ! And I thought that in the 
universal mass of falsehood and folly there were some rare 
stars, dwelling apart, here and there, and that she was one 
of them. An idle dream ! Nature has made them all in 
one mould, and it is but by means and opportunity that 
they differ. 

Higher and higher rose that vast sheet of vivid color ; 
and now every tower and steeple was bathed in rosy light, 
or else stood black against the radiant sky — towers illumi- 
nated, towers in densest shadow ; the slim spars of ships 
showing as if drawn with pen and ink on a sulphur back- 
ground — a scene of surpassing splendor and terror. 
Fareham had seen Flemish villages blazing, Flemish 
citadels exploding, their fragments hurled skyward in a 
blue flame of gunpowder ; but never this vast arch of 
crimson, glowing and growing before his astonished gaze, 
as he paddled the boat inshore, and stood up to watch the 
great disaster. 

God has remembered our modern Sodom,^^ he said 
savagely. He has punished us with pestilence, and we 


which Was The Fiercer Fire. 


269 

took no heed. And now He tries ns with fire. But if it 
come not yonder/^ pointing to Whitehall which was im- 
mediately above them, for their boat lay close to the king^s 
landing-stage — if, like the contagion, it stays in the east 
and only the citizens suffer, why, vive la bagatelle ! We 
— and our concubines — have no part in the punishment. 
We, who call down the fire, do not suffer it."’"’ 

Spellbound by that strange spectacle, Fareham stood 
and gazed, and Angela was afraid to urge him to take the 
boat on to Fareham House, anxious as she was to span 
those few hundred yards of distance, to be assured of her 
sisteFs safety. 

They waited thus nearly an hour, the sky ever increas- 
ing in brilliancy, and the sounds of voices and tramp of 
hurrying feet growing with every minute. Whitehall was 
now all alive — men and women, in a careless undress, at 
every window, some of them hanging half out of the window 
to talk to people in the court below. Shrieks of terror or 
I of wonder, ejaculations and oaths sounding on every side ; 

; while Fareham, who had moored the boat to an iron ring 
I in the wall by his majesty^’s stairs, stood gloomy and mo- 
* tionless, and made no further comment, only watched the 
; conflagration in dismal silence, fascinated by that pro- 
) digious ruin. 

I It was but the beginning of that stupendous destruction, 
f yet it was already great enough to seem like the end of all 
; things. 

■ And last night, in the court theater, Killigrew^s pup- 
!■ pets had been making a jest of a pestilence that filled the 
! grave-pits by thousands, Fareham muttered, as if awak- 
I ing from a dream. Well, the wits will have a new sub- 
i ject for their mirth— London in flames.” 

I He untied the rope, took his seat, and rowed out into 
I the stream. Within that hour in which they had waited, 

I the Thames had covered itself with traffic ; boats were 


2/0 When The World Was Younger. 

moving westward, loaded with frightened souls in casual 
attire, and with heaps of humble goods and chattels. 
Some whose houses were nearest the river had been quick 
enough to save a portion of their poor possessions, and to 
get them packed on barges ; but these were the wise 
minority. The greater number of the suiferers were 
stupefied by the suddenness of the calamity, the rapidity 
with which destruction rushed upon them, the flames 
leaping from house to house, spanning chasms of empti- 
ness, darting hither and thither like living creatures, or 
breaking out mysteriously in fresh places, so that already 
the cry of arson had arisen, and the ever-growing fire was 
set down to fiendish creatures laboring secretly in a work 
of universal destruction. 

Most of the sufferers looked on at the ruin of their 
homes paral 3 'zed by horror, unable to help themselves or 
to mitigate their losses by energetic action of any kind. 
Dumb and helpless as sheep, they saw their homes de- 
stroyed, their children's lives imperilled, and could only 
thank Providence, and those few brave men who helped 
them in their helplessness, for escape from a fiery death. 
Panic and ruin prevailed within a mile eastward of Fare- 
ham House, when the boat ground against the edge of the 
marble landing-stage, and Angela alighted and ran quickly 
up the stairs, and made her way straight to the house. 
The door stood wide open, and candles were burning in 
the vestibule. The servants were at the estern end of the 
terrace watching the fire ; too much engrossed to see their 
master and his companion land at the western steps. 

At the foot of the great staircase Angela heard herself 
called by a crystaline voice, and, looking up, saw Henriette 
hanging over the bannister rail. 

Auntie, where have you been ? 

Is your mother with you ! Angela asked. 

'"Mother is locked in her bed-chamber, and mighty 


Which Was The Fiercer Fire. 271 

sullen. She told me to go to bed. As if anybody could 
lie quietly in bed with London burning ! added Papillon, 
her tone implying that a great city in flames was a kind of 
entertainment that could not be too highly appreciated. 

She came flying downstairs like a winged creature, in 
her pretty silken deshabille, with her hair streaming, and 
flung her arms round her aunFs neck. 

Ma chatte, where have you been ? 

On the terrace.'’^ 

Fi done, menteuse ! 1 saw you and my father land at 

the west stairs, five minutes ago.'’^ 

We had been looking at the fire.^^ 

And you never offered to take me with you. What 
a greedy pig ! ” 

Indeed, dearest, it is no scene for little girls to look 
upon.” 

‘‘ And when I am grown up what shall I have to talk 
about if I miss all the great sights ? ” 

Come to your room, love. You will see only too 
much from your windows. I am going to your mother.” 

Ce n^est pas la peine. She is in one of her tempers, 
and has locked herself in.” 

No matter. She will see me.” 
doubt it. She came home in a coach and four nearly 
two hours ago, with Monsieur de Malfort ; and I think 
they must have quarreled. They bade each other good- 
night so strangely ; but he was more huffed than mother.” 
Where were you that you know so much ? ” 

In the gallery. Did I not tell you I shouldnT be able 
to sleep ? I went into the gallery for coolness, and then I 
heard the coach in the courtyard, and the doors opened, 
and I listened.” 

Inquisitive child ! ” 

^"No, I was not inquisitive. I was only vastly hipped 
for want of knowing what to do with myself. And I ran 


272 When The World Was Younger. 

to bid her ladyship good morning, for it was close upon 
one o’clock ; but she frowned at me, and pushed me aside 
with a ‘ Go to your bed, troublesome imp. What business 
have you up at this hour ? ’ ^ As much business as you 

have riding about in your coach,’ I had a mind to say, 
mais je me tenais coy ; and made her ladyship la belle 
Jennings’ curtsey instead. She curtseys lower and rises 
straighter than any of the other ladies. I watched her on 
mother’s visiting day. Lord, auntie, how white you are ! 
One might take you for a ghost ! ” 

Angela put the little prattler aside, more gently, perhaps, 
than the mother had done, and passed hurriedly on to 
Lady Fareham’s room. The door was still locked, but she 
would take no denial. 

I must speak with you,” she said. 


CHAPTEE XVII. 

THE MOTIVE — MUKDER. 

For Lady Fareham and her sister September and Octo- 
ber made a blank interval in the story of life — uneventful 
as the empty page at the end of a chapter. They spent 
those months at Fareham, a house which Hyacinth detested, 
a neighborhood where she had never condescended to make 
friends. She condemned the local gentry as a collection 
of nobodies, and had never taken the trouble to please the 
three or four great families within a twenty-mile drive, 
because, though they had rank and consequence, they had 
not fashion. The haut gout of Paris and London was 
wanting to them. 

Lord Fareham had insisted upon leaving London on the 


The Motive — Murder. 


273 


third of September, and had, his wife declared, out of pure 
malignity taken his family to Fareham, a place she hated, 
rather than to Chilton, a place she loved, at least as much 
as any civilized mortal could love the country. Never, 
Hyacinth protested, had her husband been so sullen and 
ferocious. 

He is not like an angry man,^^ she told Angela, but 
like a wounded lion ; and yet, since your goodness took all 
the blame of my unlucky escapade upon your shoulders, 
and he knows nothing of De MalforFs insolent attempt to 
carry me off, I see no reason why he should have become 
such a gloomy savage.” 

She accepted her sisteFs sacrifice with an amiable light- 
ness. How could it harm Angela to be thought to have 
run out at midnight for a frolic rendezvous ? The maids 
of honor had some such adventure half a dozen times in a 
season, and were found out, and laughed at, and laughed 
again, and wound up their tempestuous career by marrying 
great noblemen. 

If you can but get yourself talked about you may marry 
as high as you choose,” she told lier sister. 

Early in November they went back to London, and 
though all Hyacinth^s fine people protested that the town 
stank of burnt wood, smoked oil, and rosin and was al- 
together odious, they rejoiced not the less to be back again. 
Lady Fareham plunged with renewed eagerness into the 
whirlpool of pleasure, and tried to drag Angela with her ; 
but it was a surprise to both, and to one a cause for un- 
easiness, when his lordship began to show himself in scenes 
which he had for the most part avoided as well as reviled. 
For some unexplained reason he became now a frequent 
attendant at the evening festivities at Whitehall, and 
without even the pretense of being interested or amused 

there. 

18 


2^4 When The World Was Younger. 

Tarehain'’s reappearance at Court caused more surprise 
than pleasure in that brilliant circle. The statue of the 
Commandante would scarcely have seemed a grimmer 
guest. He was there in the midst of laughter and delight, 
with never a smile upon his stern features. He was silent 
for the most part, or if badgered into talking by some of 
his more familiar acquaintances, would vent his spleen in 
a tirade that startled them as the pleasant chirpings of a 
poultry-yard are startled by the raid of a dog. They 
laughed at his conversation behind his back : but in his 
presence, under the angry light of those gray eyes, the 
gloom of those bent brows, they were chilled into submis- 
sion and civility. He had a dignity which made his puri- 
tanical plainness more patrician than Eochester^s finery, 
more impressive than Buckingham's graceful splendor. 
The force and vigor of his countenance were more striking 
than Sedley’s beauty. The eyes of strangers singled him 
out in that gay throng, and people wanted to know who 
he was, and what he had done for fame. 

A soldier, yes, cela saute aux yeux. He could be noth- 
ing else than a soldier. A cavalier of the old school. 
Albeit younger by half a lifetime than Southampton and 
Clarendon, and the other ghosts of the troubles. 

Charles treated him with chill civility. 

Why does the man come here without his wife ? he 
asked He Malfort. There is a sister, too, fresher and 
fairer than her ladyship. Why are we to have the shadow 
without the sun ? Yet it is as well perhaps they keep 
away ; for I have heard of a visit which Tvas not returned 
— a condescension from a woman of the highest rank 
slighted by a trumpery baron^s wife, and after an offense 
of that kind she could only have brought us trouble. Why 
do women quarrel, Wilmot 

Why are there any men in the world, sir ? ” If there 
M^ere none, women would live together like lambs in a 


The Motive — Murder. 


275 

meadow. It is only about us they fight. As for Lady 
Fareham, she is adorable, though no longer young. I be- 
lieve she will be thirty on her next birthday. 

And the sister ? She had a wild-rose prettiness, I 
thought, when I saw her at Oxford. She looked like a lily 
till I spoke to her, and then flamed like a red rose. So 
fresh, so easily startled. ^Tis pity that shyness of youth- 
ful purity wears off in a week. I dare swear by this time 
Mrs. Kirkland is as brazen as the boldest of our young 
houris yonder, with a glance in tlie direction of the maids 
of honor, the queen^s and the duchess’s, a bevy of chatterers, 
waving fans, giggling, whispering, shoulder to shoulder 
with the impudentest of men in his majesty’s kingdom ; 
the men who gave their mornings to writing comedies 
coarser than Dry den orEtherege, and their nights to cards, 
dice, and strong drink ; roving the streets half-clad, dis- 
heveled, wanton ; beating the watch, and insulting decent 
pedestrians, with occasional vicious outbreaks which would 
have been revolting in a company of inebriated coal- 
heavers, and which brought these fine gentlemen before a 
too lenient magistrate. But were not these the manners of 
which Saint Evremond lightly sang — 

“ ‘ La douce erreur ne s’appelait point crime : 

Les vices delicats se nommaient des plaisirs.’ ” 

Mistress Kirkland has an inexorable modesty which 
would outlive even a week at Whitehall, sir,” answered 
Kochester. ^Mf I did not adore the matron I should wor- 
ship the maid. Happily for the wretch who loves her I am 
otherwise engaged.” 

Thou insolent brat ! To be eighteen years of age and 
think thyself irresistible.” 

Does your majesty suppose I shall be more attractive 
at six and thirty ? ” 

Yes, villain j for at my age thou wilt have experience/’ 


2/6 When The World Was Younger. 

And a reputation for incorrigible vice. No woman of 
taste can resist that.” 

And pray who is Mrs. Kirkland^s lover ?” 

A Puritan baronet. One Denzil Warner.” 

There was a Warner killed at Hopton Heath.” 

'^His son, sire. A fellow who believes in extempore 
prayer and republican government ; and swears England 
was never so happy or prosperous as under Cromwell.” 

And the lady favors this psalm-singing rebel ? ” 

I know not. For all I have seen of the two she 
has been barely civil to him. That he adores her is 
obvious, and I knew Lady Eareham^s heart is set upon the 
match.” 

^'Why did not Lady Fareham return the Countesses 
visit ?” 

There was no need to ask what countess. 

Be sure, sire, the husband was to blame, if there was 
want of respect for that lovely lady. I can answer for 
Lady Farehames right feeling in that matter.” 

The husband takes a leaf out of Hyde^s book, and for- 
gets what may be passed over in the Lord Chancellor, and 
a man of prodigious usefulness, is intolerable in a person 
of Fareham^s insignificance.” 

Nay, sire, insignificance is scarcely the word. I would 
as soon call a thunderstorm insignificant. The man is a 
volcano and may explode at any provocation.” 

We want no such suppressed fires at Whitehall. Nor 
do we want long faces, as Clarendon may discover some 
day, if his sermons grow too troublesome.” 

The chancellor is a domestic man, as your Majesty may 
infer from the size and splendor of his new house.” 

^^He is an expensive man, Wilmot. I believe he got 
more by the sale of Dunkirk than his master did.” 

In that case your Majesty cannot do better than shift 
all the disgrace of the transaction on to his shoulders. 


The Motive — Murder. 


277 

Dunkirk will be a sure card to play when Clarendon has to 
go overboard.^'’ 

That incivility of Lady Fareham^s in the matter of an 
unreturned visit had rankled deep in the bosom of the 
king^s imperious mistress. To sin more boldly than woman 
ever sinned, and yet to claim all the privileges and honors 
due to virtue was but a trifling inconsistency in a mind so 
fortifled by pride that it scarce knew how to reckon with 
shame. That she in her supremacy of beauty and splendor, 
a fortune sparkling in either ear, the price of a landed estate 
on her neck — ^that she, Barbara, Countess of Castlemaine, 
should have driven in a windowless coach through dusty 
lanes, eating dirt as it were, with her train of court gallants 
on horseback at her coach doors, her ladies in a carriage in 
the rear, to visit a person of Lady Fareham^s petty quality, 
a Buckinghamshire knighFs daughter married to a baron of 
Henry the Eighth^s creation ! And that this amazing con- 
descension — received with a smiling and curtseying civility 
— should have been unacknowledged by any reciprocal 
courtesy was an affront that could hardly be wiped out 
with blood. Indeed, it could never be atoned for. The 
wound was poisoned, and would rankle and fester to the 
end of that proud life. 

Yet on Fareham^s appearance at Whitehall Lady Castle- 
maine distinguished him with a marked civility, and even 
condescended, smilingly, as if there were no cause of 
quarrel, to inquire after his wife. 

Her ladyship is as pretty as ever, though we are all 
growing old,^'’ she said. We exchanged curtsies at Tun- 
bridge Wells the other day. I wonder how it is we never 
get further than smiles and curtsies ? I should like to 
show the dear woman some more substantial civility. She 
is buried alive in 3mur stately house by the river, for want 
of an influential friend to show her the world we live 
in.^' 


2/8 


Wh'en The World Was Younger. 


Indeed, madam, my wife has all the pleasure she 
desires — her visiting day, her tea-table, her friends." 

And her admirers. Kochester is always hanging about 
your garden, or landing with his wherry, when I go by ; or 
if he himself be not visible, there are a couple of his water- 
men on your steps." 

My Lord Rochester has a precocious wit which amuses 
my wife and her sister." 

And then there is De Malfort — an impertinent, second 
only to Grammont. He and Lady Fareham are twin stars. 
I have seldom seen them apart." 

Since De Malfort has the honor of being somewhat inti- 
mate with your ladyship, he has doubtless given you full 
particulars of his friendship for my wife. I assure you 
it will bear being talked about. There are no secrets 
in it." 

Really ; I thought I had heard something about a sedan 
which took the wrong road after Killigrew^s play. But 
that was the night before the fire. Good God ! my lord, 
your face darkens as if a man had struck you. Whatever 
happened before the fire should have been burnt out of our 
memories by this time." 

I see his majesty looking this way, madam, and I 
have not yet paid my respects to him," Fareham said, 
moving away, but a dazzling hand on his sleeve arrested 
him. 

Oh, your respects will keep ; he has Miss Stewart gig- 
gling at his elbow. Strange, is it not, that a woman with 
as much brain as a pigeon can amuse a man who reckons 
himself both wise and witty ? " 

It is not the lady who amuses the gentleman, madam. 
She has the good sense to pretend that he amuses her." 

^^And no more understands a jest than she does He- 
brew." 

^^She is conscious of pretty teeth and an enchanting 


The Motive — Murder. 


279 


smile. Wit or understanding would be superfluous/’ an- 
swered Fareham^ and bowed his adieu to the Sultana in 
chief. 

There was a great assembly, with music and dancing, on 
the Queen’s birthday, to which Lord and Lady Fareham 
and Mistress Kirkland were invited ; and again Angela 
saw and wondered at the splendid scene, and at this bril- 
liant world, which calamity could not touch. Pestilence 
had ravaged the city, flames had devoured it — yet here there 
were only smiling people, gorgeous dress, incomparable 
jewels. The plague had not touched them, and the Are 
had not reached them. Such afflictions are for the com- 
mon herd. Angela promenaded with De Malfort in the 
spacious banquetting hall, with its ceiling of such prodi- 
gious height that the apotheosis of King James, and all 
the emblematical figures, triumphal cars, lions, bears, and 
rams, corn-sheaves, and baskets of fruit, which filled the 
panels, might as well have been executed by a sign-painteFs 
rough and ready brush, as by the pencil of the great 
Fleming. 

We are a little kinder Jo Eubens at the Louvre,” said 
De Malfort, noting her upward gaze ; ‘^^for we allow his 
elaborate glorification of his majesty’s grandfather and 
grandmother about half a mile of wall. But I forgot, you 
have not seen Paris. Those acres of gaudy coloring which 
Henri’s vanity inflicted upon us. Florentine Marie, with 
her carnation cheeks and opulent shoulders — the Eoman- 
nosed Bearnais, with his pointed beard and stiff ruff. 
Mon Dieu, how the world has changed since Eavaillac’s 
knife snapped that valiant life ! And you have never seen 
Paris ? You look about you with wide-open eyes, and take 
this crowd, that ceiling, those candelabra, for splendor.” 

Can there be a scene more splendid ? ” asked Angela, 
pleased to keep him by her side, rather than see him de- 


28 o 


When The World Was Younger. 


vote himself to her sister ; grateful for his attention in that 
crowd, where most people were strangers, and where Lord 
Fareham had not vouchsafed the slightest notice of her. 

When you have seen the Louvre, you will wonder that 
any king with a sense of his own consequence in the world, 
can inhabit such a hovel as Whitehall — this congeries of 
shabby apartments, the offices of servants, the lodgings of 
followers and dependents, soldiers and civilians, huddled 
in a confused labyrinth of brick and stone — redeemed from 
squalor only by one fine room. Could you see the grand 
proportions, the colossal majesty of the great Henrik’s 
palace — that palace whose costly completion sat heavy upon 
Sully’s careful soul ! Henri loved to build — and his grand- 
son, Louis, inherits that Augustan taste. 

You were telling us of the new palace at Versailles — 

A royal city in stone — white — dazzling — grandiose. 
The mortar was scarcely dry when I was there in March ; 
but you should have seen the mi car4me ball. The finest 
masquerade that was ever beheld in Europe. All Paris 
came in masks to see that magnificent spectacle. His 
majesty allowed entrance to all — and those who came were 
feasted at a banquet which only Kabelais could fairly de- 
scribe. And then with our splendor there is an elegant 
restraint — a decency unknown here. Compare these 
women — Lady Shrewsbury yonder. Lady Chesterfield, the 
fat woman in sea-green and silver — Lady Castlemaine, 
brazen in orange velvet and emeralds — compare them with 
Conde^s sister, with the Duchess de Bouillon, the Princess 
Palatine 

Are those such good women 

Humph ! They are ladies. These are the kind of 
women King Charles admires. They are as distinct a 
race as the dogs that lie in his bedchamber, and follow him 
in his walks, a species of his own creation. They do not 
even affect modesty. But I am turning preacher, like 


The Motive — Murder. 


281 


Fareham. Come, there is to he an entertainment in the 
theater. Eoxalana has returned to the stage — and Jacob 
Hall, the rope dancer, is to perform.^’ 

They followed the crowd, and I)e Malfort remained at 
Angela^s side till the end of the performance, and attended 
her to the supper room afterwards. Fareham watched 
them from his place in the background. He stood ever 
aloof from the royal focus, the beauty and the wit, the most 
dazzling jewels, the most splendid raiment. He was in 
the court, but not of it. 

Yes ; the passion which these two entertained for each 
other was patent to every eye ; but had it been an honor- 
able passion upon De Malfort^s side, he would have de- 
clared himself before now. He would not have abandoned 
the field to such a sober suitor as Denzil. Henri de Mal- 
fort loved her, and she fed his passion with her sweetest 
smiles, the low and tender tones of the most musical voice 
Fareham had ever listened to. 

The voice that came to me in my desolation — the 
sweetest sound that ever fell on a dying man^s ear,” he 
thought, recalling those solitary days and nights in the 
plague year, recalling with a fond longing, ^Hhat arm 
which shows dazzling white against the purple velvet of 
his sleeve, is the arm that held up my aching head, in the 
dawn of returning reason, those eyes that refiect the laughter 
in his, are the eyes that looked down upon mine, so sweetly 
serious, so deeply anxious for my recovery. Oh, lovely 
I angel, I would be a leper again, a plague-stricken wretch, 
only to drink a cup of water from that dear hand — only to 
feel the touch of those light fingers on my forehead ! 
There was a magic in that touch that surpassed the healing 
power of kings. There was a light as of heaven in those 
benignant eyes. But, oh, she is changed since then. She 
is plague-stricken with the contagion of a profligate age. 
Her wings are scorched by the fire of this modish Tophet. 


282 


When The World Was Younger. 


She has been taught to dress, and to look like the women 
around her — a little more modest — but after the same 
fashion. The nun I worshiped is no more.^^ 

Some one tapped him on the shoulder with an ostrich fan. 
He turned, and saw Lady Castlemaine close at his elbow. 

Image of gloom, will you lead me to my rooms she 
asked, in a curious voice ; her dark blue eyes deepened by 
the pallor that showed through her rouge. 

I shall esteem myself too much honored by that office,” 
he answered, as she took his arm, and moved quickly, with 
hurried footsteps through the lessening throng. 

Oh, there is no one to dispute the honor with you. 
Sometimes I have a mob to hustle me to my lodgings, 
borne on the current of their adulation — sometimes I move 
through a desert, as I do to-night. Your face attracted 
me — for I believe it is the only one at Whitehall as gloomy 
as my own — unless there are some of my creditors here, 
men to whom I owe gaming debts.” 

It was curious to note that subtle change in the faces of 
those they passed, which Barbara Palmer knew so well — 
faces that changed, obedient to the weather-cock of royal 
caprice — the countenances of courtiers who even yet had 
not learnt justly to weigh the influence of that imperial 
favorite, or to understand that she ruled their king with 
a power which no transient fancy for newer faces could un- 
dermine. A day or two in the sulks, frowns and mourn- 
ful looks for gossip Pepys to jot down in his diary, and the 
next day the sun would be shining again, and the king 
would be at supper with ^‘^the Lady.” 

Perhaps Lady Castlemaine knew that her empire was 
secure ; but she took these transient fancies moult serieuse- 
ment. Her jealous soul could tolerate no rival — or it may 
be that she really loved the king. He had given himself 
to her in the flush of his triumphant return, while he was 
still young enough to feel a genuine passion. For her sake 


The Motive — Murder. 2S3 

he had been a cruel husband, an insolent tyrant to a weak 
harmless queen ; for her sake he had squandered his people^s 
money, and outraged every moral law ; and it may be that 
; she remembered these things, and hated him the more 
. fiercely for them when he was inconstant. She was a 
5 woman of extremes, in whose passionate breast there was 
j no medium between hatred and love. 

I You will sup with me, Fareham?^^ she said, as he 
waited on the threshold of her lodgings, which were in a 
I detached pile of buildings, near the Holbein Gateway, and 
I looking upon an enclosed, and somewhat gloomy garden. 

Your ladyship will excuse me. I am expected at 
home." 

What, devil ! Perhaps you think I am inviting you to 
a tete-a-t 4 te. I shall have some company, though the 
drove have gone to the Stewards, in a hope of getting 
asked to supper — which but a few of them can realize in 
her mean lodgings. You had better stay. I may have 
Buckhurst, Sedley, De Malfort, and a few more of the 
pretty fellows — enough to empty your pockets at basset." 

Your ladyship is all goodness," said Fareham, quickly. 

De MalforPs name had decided him. He followed his 
hostess through a cloud of lackeys, a splendor of wax can- 
dles, to her saloon where she turned, and flashed upon him 
a glorious picture of mature loveliness, the peach in its 
ripest bloom, against a background of purple damask and 
gold. 

The logs blazed and roared in the wide chimney. 
Warmth, opulence, hospitality, were all expressed in the 
brilliantly lighted room, where luxurious fauteuils, after 
the new French fashion, stood about, ready to receive her 
ladyship^’s guests. 

These were not long waited for. There was no crowd. 
Less than twenty men, and about a dozen women, were 
enough to add an air of living gaiety to the brilliancy of 


284 When The World Was Younger. 

light and color. De Malfort was the last who entered. 
He kissed her ladyship^s hand, looked about him, and rec- 
ognized Fareham with open wonder. 

An Israelite in the house of Dagon ! he said, sotto 
voce. As he approached him, What, Fareham, have you 
given your neck to the yoke ? Do you yield to the charm 
which has subjugated such lighter natures as Yilliers and 
Buckhurst ?’’ 

It is only human to love variety. You have discovered 
the charm of youth and innocence. 

Think it needs a modish Columbus to discover that ? 
We all worship innocence, were it but for its rarity, as we 
esteem a black pearl or a yellow diamond above a white onC. 
Jami, but I am pleased to see you here. It is the most 
human thing I have known of you since you recovered of 
the contagion, for you have been a gloomier man from 
that time.'’^ 

Be assured I am altogether human — at least upon the 
evil side of humanity.” 

How dismal you look. Upon my soul, Fareham, you 
should fight against that melancholic habit. Her ladyship 
is in the black sulks. We are in for a pleasant evening. 
Yet, if we were to go away, she would storm at us to-mor- 
row ; call us sycophants and time-servers, swear she would 
have no further commerce with any man jack among our 
detestable crew. Well, she is a magnificent termagant. If 
Cleopatra was half as handsome, I can forgive Antony for 
following her to ruin at Actium.” 

There is supper in the music-room, gentlemen,” said 
Lady Castlemaine, who was standing near the fire in the 
midst of a knot of whispering women. They had been abus- 
ing the fair Frances, and ridiculing old Eowley to gratify 
their hostess. She knew them by heart— their falsehood and 
hollowness. She knew that they were ready, every one of 
them, to steal her royal lover had they but the chance of 


The Motive — Murder. 


285 

such a conquest ; yet it solaced her soreness to hear Miss 
Stewart depreciated even by those false lips — She was too 
tall.'’^ Her Britannia profile looked as if it was cut out 
of the wood.” She was bold, bad, designing.” It was 
she who would have the king, not the king who would 
have her.” 

You are too malicious, my dearest Price,” said Lady 
Castlemaine, with more good-humor than had been seen in 
her countenance that evening. Buckhurst, will you take 
Mrs. Price to supper ? There are cards in the gallery. 
Pray amuse yourselves.” 

^^But will your ladyship neither sup nor play ? ” asked 
Sedley. 

My ladyship has a raging headache. What devil ! Did 
I not lose enough to some of you blackguards ? Do you 
want to rook me again ? Pray amuse yourselves, friends. 
Ho doubt his majesty is being exquisitely entertained 
where he is ; but I doubt if he will get as good a supper as 
you will find in the next room.” 

The significant laugh which concluded her speech was 
too angry for mirth, and the blackness of her brow forbade 
questioning. All the town knew next day that she had 
contrived to get the royal supper intercepted and carried 
off on its way from the king’s kitchen to Miss Stewart’s lodg- 
ings, and that his majesty had a Barmecide feast at the table 
of beauty. It was a joke quite in the humor of the age. 

The company melted out of the room ; all but Fareham, 
who watched Lady Castlemaine as she stood by the hearth 
in an attitude of hopeless self-forgetfulness, leaning against 
the lofty sculptured chimney-piece, one slender foot in 
gold-embroidered slipper and transparent stocking poised 
on the brazen fender, and her proud eyelids lowered as if 
thero was nothing in this world worth looking at but the pile 
of ship’s timber, burning with many colored flames upon 
the silver andirons. 


286 When The World Was Younger. 

In spite of that sullen downward gaze she was conscious 
of Fareham's lingering. 

Why do you stay, my lord she asked, without look- 
ing up. If your purse is heavy there are friends of mine 
yonder who will lighten it for you, fairly or foully. I have 
never made up my mind how far a gentleman may be a 
rogue with impunity. If you donT love losing money you 
had best eat a good supper and begone. 

‘^^^I thank you, madam. I am more in the mood for 
cards than for feasting. ” 

She did not answer him, but clasped her hands suddenly 
before her face and gave a heart-breaking sigh. Fareham 
paused on the threshold of the gallery, watching her, and 
then went slowly back, bent down to take the hand that 
had dropped at her side, and pressed his lips upon it, 
silently, respectfully, with a kind of homage that had be- 
come strange of late years to Barbara Palmer. Adorers, 
she had and to spare, toadeaters and flatterers, a regiment 
of mercenaries ; but these all wanted something of her — 
kisses, smiles, influence, money. Disinterested respect 
was new. 

I thought you were a Puritan, Lord Fareham. 

I am a man ; and I know what it is to suffer the hell- 
flre of jealousy.” 

Jealousy, yes ! I never was good at hiding my feelings. 
He treats me shamefully. Come, now, you take me for an 
abandoned, profligate woman, a callous wanton. That is 
what the world takes me for ; and perhaps I have deserved 
no better of the world. But whatever I am Twas he made 
me so. If he had been true, I could have been constant. 
It is the insolence of abandonment that stings, the careless 
slights ; scarce conscious that he wounds. Before the 
eyes of the world, too, before wretches that grin and 
whisper, and prophesy the day when my pride shall be in 
the dust. It is treatment such as this that makes women 


The Motive — Murder. 287 

desperate ; and if we cannot keep him we love, we make 
believe to love some one else, and flaunt our fancy in the 
deceiver’s face. Do you think I cared for Buckingham, 
with his heart of ice, or for such a snipe as J ermyn, or for 
a base-born rope-dancer ? No, Fareham ; there has been 
more of rage and hate than of passion in my caprices. 
And he is with Frances Stewart to-night. She sets up for 
a model of chastity, and is to marry Kiclimond next month. 
But we knew, Fareham, we know. Women who ride 
in glass coaches should not throw stones. I will have 
Charles at my feet again. I will have my foot upon his 
neck again. I cannot use him too ill for the pain he 
gives me. There, go — go ! Why did you tempt me to 
anatomize myself ?” 

Dearest lady, believe me, I respect your candor. 
My heart bleeds for your wrongs. So beautiful, so high 
above all other women in the capacity to charm ! Ah, be- 
lieve me, such loveliness has its responsibilities. It is a 
gift from Heaven, and to hold it cheap is a mistake.” 

There is nothing in this life can be held too cheap. 
Beauty, love — all trumpery ! You would make life a trag- 
edy. It is a farce, Fareham, a farce ; and all our pleas- 
ures and diversions only serve to make us forget what 
worms we are. There, go — to cards — to supper — as you 
please. I am going to my bedchamber to rest this aching 
head. I may return and take a hand at cards by-and-by, 
perhaps. Those fellows will game and booze till day- 
light.” 

Fareham opened the door for her, and she went out, regal 
in port and air. She had moved him to compassion, even 
while she owned herself a wanton. To love passionately — 
and to see another preferred. There is a brotherhood in 
agony, and brings even opposite natures into sympathy. 
He passed into the gallery, a long low room, hung with 
modern tapestries, richly colored, voluptuous in design. 


288 When The World Was Younger. 

Clusters of wax tapers in gilded sconces lit up those 
Paphian pictures. There were several tables, at which the 
mixed company were sitting. Piles of the new guineas, 
fresh from his majesty^s mint, shone in the candlelight. At 
some tables there was a silent absorption in the game, which 
argued high play, and the true gambler's spirit ; at others 
mirth reigned — talk, laughter, animated looks. One of 
the noisiest was the table at which De Malfort was the 
most conspicuous figure ; his periwig the highest, his dress 
the most sumptuous, his breast glittering with orders. His 
companions were Sir Ealph Masaroon, Colonel Dangerfield, 
an old Malignant, who had hibernated during the Protec- 
torate, and had never left his own country, and Lady 
Lucretia Topham, a visiting acquaintance of Hyacinth's. 

Come here, Fareham," cried De Malfort ; there is 
plenty of room for you. I'll wager Lady Lucretia will pass 
you her hand, and thank you for taking it." 

Lady Lucretia is glad to be quit of such dishonest 
company," said the lady, tossing her cards upon the table, 
and rising in a cloud of powder and perfume, and a flutter 
of lace and brocade. “ If I were ill-humored I would say 
you marked the cards ! but as I'm the soul of good nature. 
I'll only swear you are the luckiest dog in London." 

You are the soul of goodnature, and I am the luckiest 
dog in the universe when you smile upon me," answered 
De Malfort, without looking up from his cards, as the lady 
posed herself gracefully at the back of his chair, leaning 
over his shoulder to watch his play. I would not limit the 
area to any city, however big." 

Fareham seated himself in the chair the lady had vacated, 
and gathered up the cards she had abandoned. He took a 
handful of gold from his pocket, and put it on the table at 
his elbow, all with a somewhat churlish silence, that escaped 
notice where everybody was loquacious. De Malfort went 
on fooling with Lady Lucretia, whose lovely hand and arm. 


The Motive — Murder. 289 

her strongest point, descended upon a card now and then, 
to indicate the play she deemed wisest. 

Once he caught the hand and kissed it in transit. 

Wert thou as wise as this hand is fair it should direct 
my play ; but it is only a woman^’s hand, and points the 
way to perdition.-’^ 

Fareham had been losing steadily from the moment he 
took up Lady Lucretia’s cards ; and his pile of jacobuses 
had been gradually passed over to De Malfort^s side of the 
table. He had emptied his pockets, and had scrawled two 
or three I. 0 . U.^s upon scraps of paper torn from a note- 
book. Yet he went on playing, with the same unmovable 
countenance. The room had emptied itself, the rest of 
the visitors leaving earlier than their usual hour in that 
hospitable house. Perhaps because the hostess was miss- 
ing, perhaps because the royal sun was shining elsewhere. 

Lackeys handed their salvers of Burgundy and Bordeaux, 
and the players refreshed themselves occasionally with a 
brimmer of clary ; but no wine brightened Fareham^s dark 
brow, or changed the gloomy intensity of his outlook. 

My cards have brought your lordship bad luck,” said 
Lady Lucretia, who watched De MalforPs winnings with 
an air of personal interest. 

I knew my risk before I took them, madam. When 
an Englishman plays against a Frenchman he is a fool if 
is not prepared to be rooked.” 

Fareham, are you mad ? ” cried De Malfort, starting 
to his feet. To insult your friend^s country, and, by, 
basest implication, your friend.” 

I see no friend here. I say that you Frenchmen cheat 
at cards — on principle — and are proud of being cheats. I 
have heard De Grammont brag of having lured a man to 
his tent, and fed him, and wined him, and fleeced him 
while he was drunk.” He took a goblet of claret from the 
lackey who brought his salver, emptied it, and went on, 

19 


290 When The World Was Younger. 

hoarse with passion. To the marrow of your bones you 
are false, all of you. You do not cog your dice, perhaps, 
but you bubble your friends with finesses, and are as much 
sharpers at heart as the lowest tat-mongers in Alsatia. 
You empty our purses, and cozen our women with twang- 
ing guitars and jingling rhymes, and laugh at us because we 
are honest and trust you. Seducers, tricksters, poltroons. 

The fiunkey was at De Malfort’s elbow now. He snatched 
a tankard from the salver, and flung the contents across 
the table, straight at Fareham^s face. 

This bully forces me to spoil his Point de Venice, he 
said coolly, as he set down the tankard. There should 
be a law for chaining up rabid curs that have run mad 
without provocation.^^ 

Fareham sprang to his feet, black and terrible, but with 
a savage exultation in his countenance. The wine poured 
in a red stream from his point lace cravat, but had not 
touched his face. 

There shall be something redder than Burgundy spilt 
before we have done,^^ he said. 

Sacre nom, nous sommes tombes dans un Antre de 
b^tes sauvages,^^ exclaimed Masaroon, starting up, and 
anxiously examining the skirts of his brocade coat, lest 
that sudden deluge had caught him. 

^^None of your French to show your fine breed- 

ing,^^ growled the old cavalier. Fareham, you deserved 
the insult ; but one red will wash out another. I^m with 
your lordship. 

And Fm with He Malfort ! said Masaroon. He had 
more than enough provocation 

Gentlemen, gentlemen, no bloodshed ! cried Lady 
Lucretia ; or, if you are going to be uncivil to each 
other, for God^s sake get me to my chair. I have a hus- 
band who would never forgive me if it were said you 
fought for my sake.'’^ 


The Motive — Murder. 


291 


We will see yon safely disposed of, madam, before we 
begin onr business,” said Colonel Dangerfield, bluntly. 
^‘^Tareham, you can take the lady to her chair while 
Masaroon and I discuss ” 

There is no need of discussion,” interrupted Fareham, 
hotly. ^^We have nothing to arrange — nothing to wait 
for. Time, the present ; place, the garden under these 
windows ; weapons, the swords we wear. We shall have 
no witnesses but the moon and stars. It is the dead 
middle of the night, and we have the world all to ourselves.” 

Give me your sword, then, that I may compare it 
with the counFs. You are satisfied, monsieur ? ^Tis you 
that are the challenger, and Lord Fareham has the choice 
of weapons.” 

Let him choose. I will fight him with cannon — or 
with soap-bubbles,” answered De Malfort, lolling back in 
his chair, tilted at an angle of forty-five, and drumming a 
gay dance tune with his fingertips on the table. Tis a 
foolish imbroglio from first to last : and only his lordship 
and I know how foolish. He came here to provoke a 
quarrel, and I must indulge him. Come, Lady Lucretia,” 
he turned to his fair friend, as he unbuckled his sword and 
flung it on the table, it is my place to lead you to your 
chair. Colonel, you and your friend will find me below 
stairs in front of the Holbein Gate.” 

You are forgetting your winnings,” remonstrated the 
lady, pointing to the pile of gold. 

The lackeys will not forget them when they clear the 
room,” answered De Malfort, putting her hand through 
his arm, and leaving the money on the table. 

Ten minutes later, Fareham and De Malfort were stand- 
ing front to front in the glare of four torches, held by a 
brace of her ladyship^s lackeys who had been impressed 
into the service, and the colder light of a moon that rode 
high in the blue-black of a wintry heaven. There was not 


292 


When The World Was Younger. 

a sound but the ripple of the unseen river, and the distant 
cry of a watchman in petty France, till the clash of swords 
began. 

It was decided after a brief parley that the principals 
only should fight. The quarrel was private. The seconds 
placed their men on a piece of level turf, five paces apart. 
They were bareheaded, and without coat or vest, the lace 
ruffles of their shirt-sleeves rolled back to the elbow, their 
naked arms ghastly white, their faces suggesting ghost or 
devil as the spectral moonlight or the flame of the flam- 
beaux shone upon them. 

You mean business, so we may sink the parade of the 
fencing saloon,^^ said Dangerfield. Advance, gentlemen. 

pity,^^ murmured Masaroon. There is nothing 
prettier than the salute a la Franqaise.'’ 

Dangerfield handed the men their swords. They were 
nearly similar in fashion, both flat-grooved blades, with 
needle points, and no cutting edge, furnished with shell- 
guards and cross-bars in the Italian style, and were about 
of a length. 

The word was given, and the business of engagement 
began slowly and warily, for a few moments that seemed 
minutes ; and then the blades were firmly joined in carte, 
and a series of rapid feints began, De Malfort having a 
slight advantage in the neatness of his circles, and the 
swiftness of his wrist play. But in these preliminary 
lunges and parries, he soon found he needed all his skill 
to dodge his opponents point ; for Fareham^s blade followed 
his own, steadily and strongly, through every turn. 

De Malfort had begun the fight with an insolent smile 
upon his lips, the smile of a man who believes himself 
invincible, while Fareham’s countenance never changed 
from the black anger that had darkened it all that night. 
It was a face that meant death. A man who had never 
been a duellist, who had raised his voice sternly against 


The Motive — Murder. 


293 


th© practice of duelling, stood there intent upon bloodshed. 
There could be no mistake as to his purpose. The quarrel 
was an artificial quarrel — the object was murder. 

De Malfort, provoked at the unexpected strength of 
Fareham^s fence, attempted a partial disarmament, after 
the deadly continental method. Joining his opponents 
blade near the point, from a wide circular party, he made 
a rapid thrust in seconde, carrying his forte the entire 
length of Fareham^s blade, almost wrenching the sword 
from his grasp, and then, in the next instant, reaching 
forward to his fullest stretch, he lunged at his enemy^s 
breast, aiming at the vital region of the heart, a thrust 
that must have proved fatal had not Fareham sprung 
aside, and so received the blow where the sword only 
grazed his ribs, indicting a flesh wound tliat showed red 
upon the whiteness of the shirt. Dangerfield tore off his 
cravat, and wanted to bind it round his principal’s wrist, 
but Fareham repulsed him, and his gloomy anger, lashed 
into hot fury by the Frenchman’s uncavalier-like ruse, 
met his thrusts with a deadly purpose, which drove De 
Malfort reckless to lunging and riposting, and the play 
grew fast and fierce, while the rattle of steel seemed never 
likely to end, until, timing his attack to the fraction of a 
second, Fareham dropped on his left knee, and planting 
his left hand upon the ground, sent a murderous thrust in 
cartouche home under De Malfort’s guard, whose blade 
passed harmlessly over his adversary’s head as he crouched 
on the sward. 

De Malfort sat swooning in the arms of the two seconds, 
who both sprang to his assistance. 

^'Is it fatal ?” asked Fareham, standing motionless as 
stone, while the other men knelt on either side of De 
Malfort. 

I’ll run for a surgeon,” said Masaroon. There’s a 
fellow I know of this side the Abbey — mends bloody noses 


294 When The World Was Younger. 

and paints black eyes” and he was off, running across the 
grass to the nearest gate. 

It looks plaguily like a coffin,” Dangerfield said in a 
gloomy expressionless voice, with his hand on the wounded 
man^s breast. “ There^s throbbing here yet ; but he may 
bleed to death, like Lindsey, before surgery can help him. 
You had better run, Fareham. Take horse to Dover, and 

get across to Calais or Ostend. You were provoking. 

It might go hard with you if he was to die.” 

I shall not budge, Dangerfield. DidnT you hear me 
say I wanted to kill him ? You might guess I didnT care 
a cast of the dice for my life when I said as much. Let 
them find it murder, and hang me. I wanted him out of 
the world, and don’t care how soon I follow.” 

You are mad — stark, staring mad.” 

The wounded man raised himself on his elbow, groan- 
ing aloud in the agony of movement, and beckoned Fare- 
ham, who knelt down beside him, all of a piece, like a 
stone figure. 

Fareham, you had better run ; I have powerful friends. 
There’ll be an ugly stir if I die of this bout. Kiss me, mon 
ami, I forgive you. I know what wound rankled ; ’twas 
for your wife’s sister you fought — not the cards.” 

He sank into Dangerfield’s arms, swooning from loss of 
blood, as Masaroon came back at a run, bringing a surgeon, 
an elderly man of that Alsatian class which is to be found 
out of bed in the small hours. He brought styptics 
and bandages, and at once set about staunching the 
wound. 

While this was happening, a curtain had been suddenly 
pulled aside at an upper window in Lady Castlemaine’s 
lodgings showing a light within. The window was thrown 
up, and a figure appeared, clad in a white satin night-gown 
that glistened in the moonlight with a deep collar of ermine, 
from which the handsomest face in London looked across 


The Motive — Murder. 


295 

the garden, to the spot where Fareham, the seconds, and 
the surgeon, were grouped about De Malfort. 

It was Lady Castemaine. She leant out of the window 
and called to them. 

What has happened ? Is anyone hurt ? 1^11 wager a 
thousand pounds you devils have been fighting.” 

De Malfort is stabbed,” Masaroon answered. 

Not dead ? ” she shrieked, leaning further out of the 
window. 

No ; but it looks dangerous.” 

Bring him into my house this instant. Ifil send my 
fellows to help. Have you sent for a surgeon ? ” 

‘^^The surgeon is here.” 

The radiant figure vanished like a vision in the skies, 
and in three minutes a door was heard opening, and a 
voice calling, John, William, Hugh, Peter, every man 
jack of you. Lazy devils ! There^s been no time for you 
to fall asleep since the company left. Come, stir, and out 
with you.” 

We had best levant, Fareham,” muttered Dangerfield, 
and drew away his principal, who went with him, silent 
and unresisting, having no more to do there ; not to fly the 
country, however, but to walk quietly home to Fareham 
House, and to let himself in at the garden door, known to 
the household as his lordship^s. 


296 


When The World Was Younger. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

KEVELATIOKS. 

Lord Fareham stayed in his own house by the Thames, 
and nobody interfered with his liberty, though Henri de 
Malfort lay for nearly a fortnight between life and death, 
and it was only in the beginning of December that he was 
pronounced out of danger, and was able to be removed 
from Lady Castlemaine^s luxurious rooms to his own lodg- 
ings. Scandal-mongers might have made much talk of 
his lying ill in her ladyship^s house, and being tenderly 
nursed by her, had not Lady Castlemaine outlived the 
possibility of slander. It would have been as difficult for 
her name to acquire any blacker stain as for a damaged rep- 
utation to wash itself white. The secret of the encounter 
had been faithfully kept by principal and seconds, De Mal- 
fort behaving with a chivalrous generosity. He appeared, 
indeed, as anxious for his antagonists safety as for his 
own recovery. 

It was a mistake, he said, when Masaroon pressed 
him with home questions. Every man is mad once in 
his life. Fareham^s madness took an angry turn against 
an old friend. Why, we slept under the same blanket in 
the trenches before Dunkirk ; we rode shoulder to shoulder 
through the rain of bullets at Chatillon ; and to pick a 
trumpery quarrel with a brother-in-arms ! ” 

I wonder the quarrel was not picked earlier,” Masaroon 
answered bluntly. ^^Your courtship of the gentleman^s 
wife has been notorious for the last five years.” 

Call it not courtship, Ralph ; Lady Fareham and I 


Revelations. 


297 


are old playfellows. We were reared in the pays du tendre, 
loveland — the kingdom of innocent attachments and pure 
penchants, that country of which Mademoiselle Scudery 
has given us laws and a map. Your vulgar London lover 
cannot understand platonics — -'the affection which is satis- 
fied with a smile or a madrigal. Fareham knows his wife 
and me better than to doubt us.'’^ 

And yet he acted like a man who was madly jealous. 
His rudeness at the card-table was obvious malice afore- 
thought. He came resolved to quarrel.” 

Ay, he came to quarrel — hut not about his wife.” 

Pressed to explain this dubious phrase, De Malfort 
affected a fit of languor, and would talk no more. 

The town was told that the Comte de Malfort was ill of 
a quartain fever, and much was said about his sufferings 
during the Fronde, his exposure to damp and cold in the 
sea-marshes by Dunkirk, his rough fare and hard riding 
through the war of the Princes. This fever, which hung 
about him so long, was an after-consequence of hardships 
suffered in his youth — privations faced with a boyish reck- 
lessness, and which he had paid for with an impaired con- 
stitution. Fine ladies in gilded chairs, and other fine 
ladies in hackney coaches, called frequently at his lodgings 
in St. Jameses Street to inquire about his progress. Lady 
Fareham^s messenger was at his door every morning, and 
brought a note, or a book, or a piece of new music from her 
ladyship, who had been sternly forbidden to visit her old 
friend in person. 

^^You grow every day a gloomier tyrant!” Hyacinth 
protested, with more passion in her voice and mien than 
ever her husband had known. Why should I not go to 
him when he is ill — dangerously ill — dying perhaps ? He 
is my old, old friend. I remember no joy in life that he 
did not share. Why should I not go to him in his 
sorrow ? ” 


298 When The World Was Younger. 

Because you are my wife, and I forbid you ! I cannot 
understand this passion. I thought you suffered the com- 
pany of that empty-headed fop as you suffered your lap- 
dogs — the trivial appendage of a fine lady^s state. Had I 
supposed there was anything serious in your liking — that 
you could think him worth anger or tears — I should have 
ordered your life differently, and he would have had no 
place in it.” 

Tyrant ! tyrant ! ” 

You astound me. Hyacinth ! Would you dispute the 
favors of a fop with your young sister ?” 

With my sister 1 ” she cried scornfully. 

Ay, with your sister, whom he has courted assiduously, 
but with no honorable motive ! I have seen his designs.” 

Well, perhaps you are right. ^ He may care for Angela 
— and think her too poor to marry.” 

He is a traitor and a villain ” 

Oh, what fury ! Marry my sister to Sir Denzil, and 
then she will be safe from all pursuit ! He will bury her 
alive in Oxfordshire — withdraw her for ever from this 
wicked town — like poor Lady Yarborough in Cornwall.” 

I will never ask her to marry a man she cannot love.” 

Why not ? Are not you and I a happy couple ? and 
how much love had we for each other before we married ? 
Why I scarce knew the color of your eyes ; and if I had 
met you in the street, I doubt if I should have recognized 
you ! And now, after thirteen years of matrimony, we 
are at our first quarrel, and that no lasting one. Come, 
Fareham, be pleasant and yielding. Let m6 go and see 
my old playfellow. I am heartbroken for lack of his com- 
pany, for fear of his death.” 

She hung upon him coaxingly, the bright blue eyes 
looking up at him — eyes that had so often been compared 
to Madame de Longueville's, eyes that had smiled and 
beamed in many a song and madrigal — by the poets of the 


Revelations. 


299 

Hotel de Rambouillet. She was exquisitely pretty in her 
youthful coloring of lilies and roses^, blue eyes, and pale 
gold hair, and retained at thirty almost all the charms 
and graces of eighteen. 

Fareham took her by both hands and held her away 
from him, severely scrutinizing a face which he had always 
been able to admire as calmly as if it had been on canvas. 

You look like an innocent woman, he said, ‘'‘’and I 
have always believed you a good woman ; and have trusted 
my honor in your keeping — have seen that man fawning 
at your feet, singing and sighing in your ear, and have 
thought no evil. But now that you have told me, as 
plainly as woman can speak to man, that this is the man 
you love, and have loved all your life, there must needs 
come an end to the sighing and singing. You and Henri 
de Malfort must meet no more. Ray, look not such angry 
scorn. I impute no guilt, but between innocence and 
guilt there need be but one passionate hour. The wife 
goes out an honest woman, able to look her husband in 
the face as you are looking at me ; the wanton comes 
home, and the rest of her life is a shameful lie. And the 
husband awakes some day from his dream of domestic 
peace to discover that he has been long the laughing stock 
of the town. I will be no such fatuous husband. Hyacinth. 
I will wait for no second warning.^-’ 

Lady Fareham submitted in silence, and with deep re- 
sentment. She had never before experienced a husband^s 
authority sternly exercised. She had been forbidden the 
free run of London playhouses, and some of the pleasures 
of court society ; but then she had been denied with all 
kindness, and had been allowed so many counterbalancing 
extravagances, pleasures and follies, that it would have 
been difficult for her to think herself ill-used. 

She submitted angrily, passionately regretting the man 
whose presence had long been the highest element in her 


300 When The World Was Younger. 

life. Her cheek paled ; she grew indifferent to the amuse- 
ments which had been the business of her life ; sulked in 
her rooms, equally avoiding her children and their aunt ; 
and, indeed, seemed to care for no one’s society except 
Mrs. Lewin^s. The court milliner had business with her 
ladyship every day, and was regaled with cakes and liqueurs 
in her ladyship’s dressing-room. 

You must be very busy about new gowns. Hyacinth,” 
her husband said to her one day at dinner. I meet the 
harridan from Covent Carden on the stairs every morning.” 

She is not a harridan, whatever that elegant word may 
mean. And as for gowns, it would be wiser for me to 
have no new ones, since it is but likely I shall soon have to 
wear mourning for an old friend.” 

She looked at her husband, defying him. He rose from 
the table with a sigh and walked out of the room. There 
was war between them, or at best an armed neutrality. 
He looked back, and saw that he had been blind to the 
things he should have seen, dull and stupid where he 
should have had sense and understanding. 

I did not care enough for my honor,” he thought. 

Was it because I cared too little for my wife ? It is in- 
difference, and not love, that is blind.” 

Angela saw the cloud that overshadowed Fareham House 
with deepest distress, and yet felt herself powerless to bring 
back sunshine. Her sister met her remonstrances with 
scorn. 

Do you take the part of a tyrant against your own 
flesh and blood ? ” she asked. I have been too tame 
a slave. To keep me away from the court while I was 
young and worth looking at — to deny me amusements and 
admiration which are the privilege of every woman of 
quality — to forbid me the playhouse, and make a country 
cousin of me by keeping me ignorant of modern wit. I 
am ashamed of my compliance.” 


Revelations. 


301 


Nay, dearest, was it not an evidence of liis love that 
he should desire you to keep your mind pure as well as 
your face fair ? ” 

^‘^No, he has never loved me. It is only a churlish 
jealousy, that would shut me up in a harem like a Turk^s 
wife, and part me from the friend I like best in the world — 
with the purest platonic affection.-’^ 

Hyacinth, don^’t be angry with me for being out of the 
fashion ; but indeed I cannot think it right for a wife 
to care for the company of any other man but her 
husband.'’^ 

And my husband is so entertaining ! Sure any woman 
might be content with such gay company — such flashes 
of wit — such light raillery ! " cried Hyacinth scornfully, 
walking up and down the room, plucking at the lace upon 
her sleeves with restless hands, her bosom heaving, her 
eyes steel-bright with anger. Since his sickness last year, 
he has been the image of melancholy ; he has held himself 
aloof from me as if I had had the pestilence. I was con- 
tent that it should be so. I had my children and you, and 
one who loved me better, in his light way, than any of you 
— and I could do without Lord Fareham. But now he 
forbids me to see an old friend that is dangerously ill, and 
every drop of blood in my veins boils in rebellion against 
his tyranny ! 

It was in the early dusk, an hour or so after dinner. 
The servants had lighted clusters of wax candles in the 
sconces here and there against the tapestried walls ; but 
these only made intervals of light in the dusk of the long 
lofty gallery. Many more candles would be lighted by 
and by, and visitors would drop in on their way to or from 
■Whitehall, and those scandals from which Fareham had 
tried to guard his wife^s ears and mind would be discussed 
in undertones and whispers, with much airy laughter. 
Visitors came in, and Hyacinth had to affect pleasure in 


302 When The World Was Younger. 

their company in spite of the dull aching heart and the 
feeling that life was hateful. 

Angela sat silent in the shadow of a bay window, quite 
as heavy-hearted as her sister — sorry for Hyacinth, but 
still sorrier for Hyacinth^’s husband, yet feeling that there 
was treachery and unkindness in making him first in her 
thoughts. But surely, surely he deserved a better wife 
than this ! Surely he deserved a wife's love — this man 
who stood alone among the men she knew, hating all evil 
things, honoring all things good and noble ! He had been 
unkind to her — cold and cruel — since that fatal night. He 
had let her understand that all friendship between them 
was at an end forever, and that she had become despicable 
in his sight ; and she had submitted to be scorned by him, 
since it was impossible that she should clear herself. She 
had made her sisterly sacrifice for a sister who regarded it 
very lightly ; to whose light fancy that night and all it in- 
volved counted but as a scene in a comedy ; and she could 
not unmake it. But having so sacrificed his good opinion 
whose esteem she valued, she wanted to see some happy 
result to save this splendid home from shipwreck. 

Suddenly, with a passionate impulse, she went to her 
sister, and put her arms around her and kissed her. 

Hyacinth, you shall not continue in this folly," she 
cried, to fret for that shallow idler, whose love is lighter 
than thistledown, whose element is the ruelle of one of 
those libertine French duchesses he is ever talking about. 
To rebel against the noblest gentleman in England ! Oh, 
sister, you must know him better than I do ; and yet I, who 
am nothing to him, am wretched when I see him ill used. 
Indeed, Hyacinth, you are acting like a wicked wife. You 
should never have wished to see He Malfort again, after 
the peril of that night. You should have known that he 
had no esteem for you, that he was a traitor — that his de- 
sign was the wickedest, cruellest " 


Revelations. 


303 

I don^t pretend to know a man’s mind as well as you 
— neither De Malfort’s nor my husband’s. You have 
needed but the experience of a year to make you wise 
enough in the world’s ways to instruct your elders. I am 
not going to he preached to — hark — ” she cried, running 
to the nearest window, and looking out at the river, ‘'‘^that 
is better than your sermons.” 

It was the sound of fiddles playing the symphony of a 
song she knew well, one of De Malfort’s, a Drench chan- 
son, her latest favorite, the words adapted from a little 
poem by Virture. 

She opened the casement, and Angela stood beside her 
looking down at a boat in which several muffled figures 
were seated, and which was moored to the terrace wall. 

There were three violins and a cello, two singing hoys 
with fair young faces smiling in the light of the lamps 
that hung in front of Fareham’s house. 

The evening was still, and mild as early autumn, and 
the plash of oars passing up and down the river sounded 
like a part of the music — 

- “ Love in her sunny eyes does basking play, 

Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair, 

Love does on both her lips for ever stray. 

And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there ; 

In all her outward parts love’s always seen ; 

But, oh, he never went within.” 

It was a song of Cowley’s, which De Malfort had lately 
set to music, and to a melody which Hyacinth especially 
admired. 

A serenade ! Only De Malfort could have thought 
of such a thing. Lying ill and alone, he sends me the 
sweetest token of his regard — my favorite air, his own set- 
ting— the last song I ever heard him sing. And you won- 
der that I value so pure, so disinterested a love,” protested 


304 ^ When The World Was Younger. 

/i&yacinth to her sister, in the silence at the end of the 
song. 

Sing again, sweet boys, sing again, she cried, snatch- 
ing a purse from her pocket, and flinging it with impetuous 
aim into the boat. It hit one of the fiddlers on the head, 
and there was a laugh, and in a trice the largesse was di- 
vided and pocketed. 

^^They are from his majesty^s choir; I know their 
voices,^^ said Hyacinth ; so fresh, and pure. They are 
the prettiest singers in the chapel. That little monkey 
with the cherub^s voice is Purcell — Dr. Blow^s favorite 
pupil — and a rare genius. 

They sang another song from De MalforPs repertoire, 
an Italian serenade, which Hyacinth had heard in the 
brilliant days before her marriage, when the Italian Opera 
was still a new thing in Paris. The melody brought back 
the memory of her happy girlhood with a rush of sudden 
tears. 

The little concert lasted for something less than an hour, 
with intervals of light music, dances and marches, between 
the singing. Boats passed and repassed. Strange voices 
Joined in a refrain now and then, and the sisters stood at 
the open window enthralled by the charm of the music 
and the scene. London lay in ruins yonder to the east, 
and Sir Matthew Hale and other judges were sitting at 
Clilford’s Inn to decide questions of title and boundary, 
and the obligation to rebuild ; but here in this western 
London there were long ranges of lighted windows shin- 
ing through the wintry mists, wherries passing up and 
down with lanterns at their prows, an air of life and 
gaiety hanging over all that river which had carried many 
a noble victim to his doom within those cyclopean walls, 
where the four towers stood black against the starlit gray- 
ness, unscathed by fire, and untouched by time. 

Angela often thought of those great spirits who had 


Revelations. 


305 


passed under her windows on that short voyage to a trai- 
tor's grave — oftenest of all she thought of the stern strong 
Yorkshireman, born for autocratic rule, a despot by in- 
stinct, who had made that brief voyage many a time be- 
tween the Tower and the senate house, through the weary 
complexities of half a year, fighting for his life, as Fouquet 
fought afterwards for life and liberty, and against as cruel 
odds, envied, admired, hated with the fierce hate that 
follows public success. She thought of Strafford often, 
recalling all of goodness and benignant power that she 
had ever heard of from his apologists, discrediting his 
accusers. Her father had talked of Fareham's likeness to 
his distant cousin ; and in thinking of the fallen states- 
man, of whom she had seen no portrait, her imagination 
conjured up a face that was like, and yet unlike, her 
brother-in-law. 

The last notes of a good-night song dwindled and died, 
to the accompaniment of dipping oars, as the boat moved 
slowly along the tideway, and lost itself among other boats, 
jovial cits going eastward, from an afternoon at the king's 
theater, modish gallants voyaging westward from play- 
house or tavern, some going home to domesticity, others 
intent upon pleasure and intrigue, as the darkness came 
down, and the hour for supper and deeper drinking drew 
near. And who would have thought, watching the lighted 
windows of palace and tavern, hearing those joyous sounds 
of glee or catch trolled by voices that reeked of wine — who 
would have thought of the dead-cart, and the unnumbered 
dead lying in the pest pits yonder, or the city in ruins, or 
the king enslaved to a foreign power, and pledged to a 
hated church, — London, gay, splendid, and prosperous, the 
queen-city of the world as she seemed to those who loved her, 
— could rise glorious from the ashes of a fire unparalleled 
in modern history, and to Charles and Wren it might be 
given to realize a boast which in Augustus had been little 
20 


3o 6 When The World Was Younger. 

more than an imperial phrase ? Were but Parliament 
accommodating, king and architect could leave broad 
streets and stone churches where they had found winding 
lanes and narrow alleys of wood and plaster ; mansions 
instead of hovels, pillared and pedimented markets instead 
of hucksters’ stalls ; sky-pointing spires and pinnacles, a 
dome inferior only to Florence and Eome, and finer placed 
than either, since even the wide spaces, the colonades and 
fountains in front of St. Peter’s can scarce vie in pictur- 
esque effect with the sharp ascent of Ludgate Hill and the 
dominant position of St. Paul’s as seen from every point 
along the river. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

DIDO. 

The armed neutrality between man and wife continued, 
and the domestic sky at Fareham House was dark and de- 
pressing. Lady Fareham, who had hitherto been remark- 
able for a girlish amiability of speech which went well with 
her girlish beauty, became now the height of the mode for 
acidity and slander. The worst of the evil speakers on her 
ladyship’s visiting day flavored the China tea with no 
bitterer allusions than those that fell from the rosy lips of 
the hostess. And, for the coloring of those lips, which 
once owed their vermeil tint only to nature. Lady Fare- 
ham was now dependent upon Mrs. Lewin, as well as for 
the carnation of cheeks that looked pallid and sunken in 
the glass which reflected the sad morning face. 

Mrs. Lewin brought roses and lilies in her queer little 
china pots, and powder boxes, pencils and brushes, perfumes 
and washes without number. It cost as much to keep a 


Dido. 


307 


complexion as to keep a horse. And Mrs. Lewin was in- 
finitely useful at this juncture, since she called every day 
in St. Jameses Street, to carry a lace cravat, or a ribbon, 
or a flask of essence to the invalid languishing in lodgings 
there, and visited by all the town, except Fareham and his 
wife. De Malfort had lain for a fortnight at Lady Castle- 
maine^'s house, alternately petted and neglected by his 
fair hostess, as the fit took her, since she showed herself ever 
of the chamelion breed, and hovered betwixt angel and 
devil. His surgeon told him in confidence that when once 
his wound was healed enough to allow his removal, the 
sooner he quitted that feverish company the better it would 
be for his chance of a speedy convalescence. So, at the 
end of the second week, he was moved in a covered litter 
to his own lodgings, where his faithful valet, who had 
followed his fortunes since he came to man^s estate, was 
quite capable of nursing him. 

The town soon discovered the breach between Lord 
Fareham and his friend — a breach commented upon with 
many shoulder shrugs, and not a few coarse innuendoes. 
Lady Lucretia Topham insisted upon making her way to 
the sick man^s room, in the teeth of messages through his 
valet, which, even to a less intelligent mind than Lady 
Lucretia^ might have conveyed the fact that she was not 
wanted. She flung herself on her knees by De MalforFs 
bed, and wept and raved at the brutality which deprived 
the world of his charming company — and herself of the 
only man she had ever loved. De Malfort, fevered and 
vexed at her intrusion, and this renewal of fires long burnt 
out, had yet discretion enough to threaten her with his 
dire displeasure, if she betrayed the secret of his illness. 

‘^1 have sworn Dangerfield and Masaroon to silence,^^ he 
said. Except servants, who have been paid to keep close, 
you are the only other witness of our quarrel ; and if the 
story becomes town talk, I shall know whose busy tongue 


3o 8 When The World Was Younger. 

set it going — and then — well, there are things I might 
tell that your ladyship would hardly like the public to 
know.” 

Traitor ! If your purse has accommodated me once in 
a way when luck has been adverse ” 

Oh, madam, you cannot think me base enough to 
blab of a money-transaction with a lady. There are secrets 
more tender — more romantic.” 

Those secrets can be easily denied, wretch. However, 
I know you would not injure me with a husband so odious 
and tyrannical that I stood excused in advance for incon- 
stancy when I stooped to wed country manners and stub- 
born ignorance. Indeed, mon ami, if you will but take 
pains to recover, I will never breathe a word about the 
duel ; but if — if — ” a sob stood in place of half a sentence 
— ^‘^I will do all that a weak woman can do to get Fareham 
hanged for murder. There has never been a peer hanged 
in England, I believe. He should be the first.” 

Dear soul, there need be no hanging ! I have been on 
the mending hand for a week, or my doctors would not 
have let you upstairs. There, go, my pretty Lucrece, but 
if your milliner or your shoemaker is pressing, there are a 
few jacobuses in the right hand drawer of yonder secretaire, 
and you may as well take them as leave them for my valet 
to steal. He is one of those excellent old servants who 
makes no distinction, and robs me as freely as he robbed 
my father before me.” 

Mrs. Lewin is always pressing,” sighed Lady Lucre- 
tia. She made me a gown like that of Lady Fareham^s, 
for which you were all eyes. I ordered the brocade to please 
you ; and now I am wearing it when you are not at Whitehall. 
Well, as you are so kind, I will be your debtor for another 
trifling loan. It is wicked to leave money where it tempts 
a good servant to dishonesty. Ah, Henri,” she was pocket- 
ing the gold as she talked, if ten years of my life could 


Dido. 


309 

save yon ten days of pain and fever, how gladly would I 
give them to yon.'’'’ 

Ah, douce, if there were a market for the exchange of 
such commodities, what a roaring trade would be done 
there. I never loved a woman yet but she offered me her 
life, or an instalment of it.^^ 

I have emptied your drawer,” laughing coyly. There 
is just enough to keep Lewin in good humor till you are 
well again and we can be partners at basset.” 

It will be very long before I play basset in London.” 

Oh, but indeed you will soon be well.” 

^‘^Well enough to change the scene, I hope. It needs 
change of places and persons to make life bearable. I 
long to be at the Louvre again, to see a play by Moli^re^s 
company, as only they can act, instead of the loathsome 
translations we get here, in which all that there is of wit 
and charm in the original is transmuted to coarseness and 
vulgarity. When I leave this bed, Lucrece, it will be for 
Paris.” 

Why, it will be ages before you are strong enough for 
such a journey.” 

Oh, I will risk that. I hate London so badly, that 
to escape from it will work a miraculous cure for me.” 

An armed neutrality. Even the children felt the change 
in the atmosphere of home, and nestled closer to their 
aunt, who never changed to them. 

‘^‘'Father mostly looks angry,” Henriette complained, 
and mother is always unhappy, if she is not laughing 
and talking in the midst of the company ; and neither of 
them ever seems to want me. I wish I were grown up, so 
that I could be maid of honor to the queen or the duchess, 
and live at Whitehall. Mademoiselle told me that there 
is always life and pleasure at court.” 

Your father does not love the court, dearest, and made- 


310 


When The World Was Younger. 


moiselle should he wiser than to talk to you of such things 
when she is here to teach you dancing and French litera- 
ture.’’^ 

Mademoiselle^^ was a governess lately imported from 
Paris, recommended by Mademoiselle Scudery, and full of 
high-flown ideas expressed in high-flown language. All 
Paris had laughed at Moliere^s Precieuses Eidicules ; but 
the Precieuses themselves, and their friends, protested 
that the popular farce was aimed only at the vulgar, low- 
born imitators of those great ladies who had originated the 
school of superfine culture and romantic aspirations. 

Sapho herself, in tracing her own portrait with a 
careful and elaborate pencil, told tho world how shamefully 
she had been imitated by the spurious middle-class Saphos, 
who set up their salons, and died with the sacred house of 
Rambouillet, and the privileged coterie of the Kue du 
Temple. 

Lady Fareham had not ceased to believe in her dear, 
plain, witty Scudery, and was delighted to secure a gover- 
ness of her choosing, whereby Papillon, who loved freedom 
and idleness, and hated lessons of all kinds, was set down 
to write themes upon chivalry, politeness, benevolence, 
pride, war, and other abstractions ; or to fill in boutes 
rimes, by way of enlarging her acquaintance with the 
French language, which she had chattered freely all her 
life. Mademoiselle insisted upon all the niceties of phra- 
seology as discussed in the Eue Saint Thomas du Louvre. 

There had been a change of late in Fareham’s manner 
to his sister-in-law, a change refreshing to her troubled spirit 
as mercy, that gentle dew from heaven to the criminal. 
He had been kinder, and though he spent very few of 
his hours with the women of his household, he had talked 
to Angela somewhat in the friendly tone of those fondly 
remembered days at Chilton, when he had taught her to row 
and ride, to manage a spirited palfrey and fly a falcon, and 


Dido. 


311 

had been in all things her mentor and friend. He seemed 
less oppressed with gloom as time went on, but had his sullen 
fits still, and after being kind and courteous to wife and 
sister, and playful with his children, would leave them 
suddenly, and return no more to tlie saloon or drawing- 
room that evening. Yet on the whole the sky was lighten- 
ing. He ignored Hyacinth^s resentment, endured her 
pettishness, and was studiously polite to her. 

It was on her ladyship^s visiting-day, deep in that very 
severe winter, that some news was told her which came 
like a thunder-clap, and which it needed all the weak 
souks power of self-repression to suffer without swooning 
or hysterics. 

Lady Sarah Tewkesbury, gorgeous in velvet and fur, 
her thickly painted countenance framed in a furred hood, 
entered fussily upon a little coterie in which Masaroon, 
vaporing about the last performance at the king^s theater, 
was the principal figure. 

There was a little woman spoke the epilogue, he 
said, a little creature in a monstrous big hat, as large and 
as round as a cart-wheel, which vastly amused his maiesty.^^ 

‘^The hat?^^ 

Hay, it was woman and hat. The thing is so small it 
might have been scarce noticed without the hat, but it 
has a pretty little, insignificant, crumpled face, and laughs 
all over its face till it has no eyes, and then stops laugh- 
ing suddenly, and the eyes shine out, twinkling and danc- 
ing like stars refiected in running water, and it stamps its 
little foot upon the stage in a comic passion — and — nous 
verrons. It sold oranges in the pit, folks tell me, a year 
ago. It may be selling sinecures and captaincies in a year 
or two, and putting another shilling in the pound upon 
land.^^ 

Is it that brazen little comedy actress you are talking 
of, Masaroon ? Lady Sarah asked, when she had ex- 


312 When The World Was Younger. 

changed curtsies with the ladies of the company, and 
established herself on the most comfortable tabouret, near 
Lady Fareham^’s tea-table ; Mrs. Glyn — Wynn — Gwyn ? 
I wonder a man of wit can notice such a vulgar creature, 
a she- jack pudden, fit only to please the rabble in the 
gallery."" 

Ay, but there is a finer sort of rabble — a rabble of 
quality — beginning with his majesty, that are always 
pleased with anything new. And this little creature is as 
fresh as a spring morning. To see her laugh, to hear the 
ring of it, clear and sweet as a skylark"s song. On my life, 
madam, the town has a new toy, and Mrs. Gwyn will be 
the rage in high quarters. You should have seen Castle- 
maine"s scowl when Eowley laughed, and ducked under 
the box almost in an ecstasy of amusement at the huge 
hat."" 

Lady Castlemaine"s brow would thunder-cloud if his 
majesty looked at a fly on a window-pane. But she has 
something else to provoke her frowns to-day."" 

What is that, chore dame ? "" asked Hyacinth, snatching 
a favorite fan from Sir Ralph, who was teasing one of the 
Blenheims with African feathers that were almost priceless. 

The desertion of an old friend. The Comte de Mal- 
fort has left England."" 

Lady Eareham turned livid under her rouge. Angela 
ran to her and leant over her upon a pretense of rescuing 
the fan, and chiding the dogs; and so contrived to screen 
her sister"s change of complexion from the malignity of 
her dearest friends. 

"" Left England ! Why, he is confined to his bed with a 
fever ! "" Hyacinth said faintly ; when she had somewhat 
recovered from the shock. 

"" Nay, it seems that he began to go abroad last week, 
but would see no company, except a confidential friend or 
so. He left London this morning for Dover."" 


Dido. 


313 


^‘'No doubt he has business in Burgundy, where his 
estate is, and at Paris, where he is of importance at the 
court,^'’ said Hyacinth, as lightly as she could : ‘^‘^but 111 
wager anything anybody likes that he will be in London 
again in a month. 

111 take you for those black pearls in your ears, ma 
mie,” said Lady Sarah. Ilis furniture is to be sold by 
auction next week. ' I saw a bill on the house this after- 
noon. It is sudden. Perhaps the Castlemaine had be- 
come too exacting ? 

Castlemaine,^^ faltered Hyacinth, agitated beyond her 
power of self-control. Why, what is she to him more 
than she is to other men ? 

Very little, perhaps,'’^ said Sir Ealph, and then every- 
body laughed, and Hyacinth felt herself sitting among 
them like a child, understanding nothing of their smiles 
and shrugs, the malice in their sly interchange of glances. 

She sat among them feeling as if her heart were turned 
to stone. He had left the country without even bidding 
her farewell — her faithful slave, upon whose devotion she 
counted as surely as upon the rising of the sun. Whatever 
her husband might do to separate her from this friend of 
her girlhood, she had feared no defection upon He Malfork's 
part. He would always be near at hand, waiting and 
watching for the happier days that were to smile upon 
their innocent loves. She had written to him every day 
during his illness. Good Mrs. Lewin had taken the letters 
to him, and had brought her his replies. He had not 
written so often, or at such length as she, and had pleaded 
the languor of convalescence as his excuse ; but all his 
billets doux had been in the same delicious hyperbole, the 
language of the Pays du Tendre. She sat silent while her 
visitors talked about him, plucking a reputation as merci- 
lessly as a kitchen wench plucks a fowl. He was gone. 
He had left the country deep in debt. It was his landlord 


314 


When The AVorld Was Younger. 


who had stuck up that notice of a sale by auction. Tailors 
and shoemakers, perruquiers and perfumers were bewailing 
his flight. 

So much for the sordid side of things. But what of 
those numerous affairs of the heart — those entanglements 
which had made his life one long intrigue ? Lady Sarah 
sat simpering and nodding as Masaroon whispered close 
in her ear. 

Barbara ? Oh, that was almost as old as the story of 
Antony and Cleopatra. She had paid his debts — and he 
had paid hers. Their purse had been in common. And 
the handsome maid of honor ? Ah, poor silly soul ! 
That was a horrid ugly business, and his majesty’s part 
in it the horridest. And Mrs. Levington, the rich silk 
mercer’s wife ? That was a serious attachment. It was 
said the husband had attempted poison when Do Malfort 
refused the satisfaction of a gentleman. And the poor 
woman was sent to die of ennui and rheumatism in a castle 
among the Irish bogs, where her citizen husband had set 
up as a landed squire.” 

The flne company discussed all these foul stories with 
gusto, insinuating much more than they expressed in 
words. Never until to-day had they spoken so freely of 
De Malfort in Lady Fareham’s presence ; but the story 
had got about of a breach between Hyacinth and her 
admirer, and it was supposed that any abuse of the de- 
faulter would be pleasant in her ears. And then, he was 
ruined and gone ; and there is no vulture’s feast sweeter 
than to banquet upon a departed rival’s character. 

Hyacinth listened in a dull silence, as if her sensations 
were suddenly benumbed. She felt nothing but a horrible 
surprise. Her lover — her platonic lover — that other half 
of her mind and her heart — with whom she had been in such 
tender sympathy, in unison of spirit so subtle that the 
same thoughts sprung up simultaneously in the minds of 


Dido. 


315 

each, the same language leapt to their lips, and they 
laughed to find their words alike. It had been only a shal- 
low woman^s shallow love — hut trivial woes are tragedies 
for trivial minds ; and when her guests had gradually melted 
away, dispersing themselves with reciprocal curtsies and 
airy compliments, elegant in their modish iniquity as a 
troop of vicious fairies — Hyacinth stood on the hearth 
where they had left her, a statue of despair. 

Angela went to her, as the stately double doors closed on 
the last of the gossips and lackeys, and they two were alone 
amidst the spacious splendor. The younger sister hugged 
the elder to her breast, and kissed her, and cried over her, 
like a mother comforting her disappointed child. 

^^DonT heed that shameful talk, dearest. Ho character 
is safe with them. Be sure Monsieur De Malfort is not the 
reprobate they would make him. You have known him 
nearly all your life. You know him too well too judge him 
by the idle talk of the town.^'’ 

Ho, no ; I have never known him. He has always 
worn a mask. He is as false as Satan. DoiTt talk to me — 
don’t kiss me, child. You have smeared my face horribly 
with your kisses and tears. Your pity drives me mad. 
How can you understand these things — you who have never 
loved any one ? What can you know of what women feel ? 
There, silly fool ! you are trembling as if I had hit you,^^ 
as Angela withdrew her arms suddenly, and stood aloof. 

I have been a virtuous wife, sister, in a town where scarce 
one woman in ten is true to her marriage vows. I have 
never sinned against my husband ; but I never loved him. 
Henri had my heart before I knew what the word love 
meant ; and in all these years we have loved each other, 
with the purest, noblest affection — at least he made me 
believe my love was reciprocated. We have enjoyed a 
most exquisite communion of thought and feeling. His 
letters — ^you shall read his letters some day — so noble, so 


3i 6 When The World Was Younger. 

brilliant, all poetry, and chivalry, and wit. I lived upon 
his letters when fate parted us. And when he followed us 
to England, I thought it was for my sake that he came — 
only for me. And to hear that he was her lover — hers — 
that woman ! To know that he came to me — wdth sweetest 
words upon his lips — knelt to kiss the tips of my fingers — 
as if it were a privilege to die for — from her arms, from 
her caresses — the wickedest woman in England — and the 
loveliest.'’^ 

Dear Hyacinth, it was a childish dream I — and you have 
awakened ! You will live to be glad of being recalled from 
falsehood to truth. Your husband is worth fifty He Mal- 
forts, did you but know it. Oh, dearest, give your heart to 
him who ought to be its only master. Indeed he is worthy. 
He stands apart — an honorable, noble thinking man in a 
world that is full of libertines. Indeed he deserves your 
love.^’ 

^‘^DonT preach to me, child. If you could give me a 
sleeping draught that would blot out memory for ever — 
make me forget my childhood in the Marais — my youth at 
Saint Germain — the dames at the Louvre — all the days 
when I was the happiest why, then, perhaps, you might 
make me in love with Lord Fareham.^^ 

^^You will begin a new life, sister, now He Malfort is 
gone.” 

I will never forgive him for going,” cried Hyacinth, 
passionately. Never — never. To give me no note of 
warning ! To sneak away like a thief who had stolen my 
diamonds. To fly for debts, too, and not come to me for 
money. Why have I a fortune, if not to help those I love ? 
But — if he was that woman^s lover — I will never see his face 
again — never speak his name — never — from the moment I 
am convinced of that hellish treason — never ! Her lover ! 
Lady Castlemaine^s ! We have laughed at her, together ! 
Her lover ! And there were other women — a tradesman’s 


Dido. 


317 

wife ! Oh, how hateful, how hateful it all is. Angela, if 
it is true, I shall go mad.^^ 

Dearest, to you he was hut a friend — and though you 
may be sorry he was so great a sinner, his sins cannot con- 
cern your happiness ” 

What, not to know him a profligate ? The man to 
whom I gave a chaste woman^’s love. Angela, that night, 
in the ruined abbey, I let him kiss me. Yes, for one 
moment I was in his arms — and his lips were on mine. 
And he had kissed her — the same night perhaps. The pol- 
lution of her kiss was on his lips. And it was you who 
saved me — dear sister, I owe you more than life — I might 
have given myself to everlasting shame that night — God 
knows. I was in his power — her lover — judging all women, 

perhaps, by his knowledge of that The epithet which 

closed the sentence was not a word for a woman^s lips ; hut it 
was wrung from the soreness of a woman^s wounded heart. 

Hyacinth flung herself distractedly into her sister^s 
arms. 

You saved me,” she cried hysterically. He wanted 
me to go to Dover with him — hack to France — where we 
were so happy. He knelt to me and I refused him : but 
he prayed me again, and again, and if you had not come to 
rescue me, should I have gone on saying no ? God knows if 
my courage would have held out. There were tears in his 
eyes. He swore that he had never loved any one upon this 
earth as he loved me. Hypocrite ! Deceiver, liar. He 
loved that woman. Twenty times handsomer than ever I 
was — a hundred times more wicked. It is the wicked women 
that are best loved, Angela, remember that. Oh, bless you 
for coming to save me. You saved Fareham^s life in the 
plague year. You saved me from everlasting misery. 
You are our guardian angel.” 

^^Ah, dearest, if love could guard you I might deserve 
that name 


3i 8 When The World Was Younger. 

It was late in the same evening that Lady Fareham^’s maid 
came to her bedchamber to inquire if she would be pleased 
to see Mrs. Lewin, who had brought a pattern of a new 
French bodice, with her humble apologies for waiting on 
her ladyship so late. 

Her ladyship would see Mrs. Lewin. She started up 
from the sofa where she had been lying, her forehead 
bound with a handkerchief steeped in Hungary water. 
She was all excitement. 

Bring her here instantly, she said, and the interval 
necessary to conduct the milliner up the grand staircase 
and along the gallery seemed an age to Hyacinth^s im- 
patience. 

Well ? Have you a letter for me ?” she asked, when 
her woman had retired, and Mrs. Lewin had bustled and 
curtsied across the room. 

In truly, my lady ; and I have to ask your ladyship^s 
pardon for not bringing it early this morning, when his 
honor gave it to me with his own hand out of his traveling 
carriage. And very white and wasted he looked, dear 
gentleman, not fit for a voyage to France in this severe 
weather. And I was to carry you his letter immediately ; 
but, eh, gud ! your ladyship, there was never such a busi- 
ness as mine for surprises. I was putting on my cloak to 
step out with your ladyship’s letter, when a chair, with a 
footman in the royal undress livery, sets down at my door, 
and one of the duchess’s women had come to fetch me to 
her highness ; and there I was kept in her highness’s 
chamber half the morning, disputing over a paduasoy for 
the Shrove Tuesday masquerade — for her highness gets 
somewhat bulky and is not easy to dress to her advantage 
or to my credit — though she is a beauty compared with 
the queen, who still hankers after her hideous Portuguese 
fashions ” 

And employs your rival, Madame Marifieur ” 


Dido. 


319 

Marifleur ! If your ladyship know the creature as 
well as I do, you^’d call her Sally Cramp.” 

I never can remember a low English name. Marifleur 
seems to promise all that there is of the most graceful and 
airy in a ruffled sleeve and a ribbon shoulder-knot.” 

I am glad to see your ladyship is in such good spirits,” 
said the milliner, wondering at Lady Eareham^’s flushed 
cheeks and brilliant eyes. 

They were brilliant with a somewhat glassy brightness, 
and there was a touch of hysteria in her manner. Mrs. 
Lewin thought she had been drinking. Many of her cus- 
tomers ended that way — took to cognac and ratafia when 
choicer pleasures were exhausted and wrinkles began to 
show through their paint. 

Hyacinth was reading He Malf orb’s letter as she talked, 
moving about the room a little, and then stopping in 
front of the flreplace, where the light from two clusters 
of wax candles shone down upon the flnely written 
page. 

Mrs. Lewin watched her for a few minutes, and then 
produced some pieces of silk out of her mufl. 

I made so bold as to bring your ladyship some patterns 
of Italian silks, which only came to hand this morning,” 
she said. “ There is a cherry-red that would become 
your ladyship to the T.” 

Make me a gown of it, my excellent Lewin — and good- 
night to you.” 

^ But sure your ladyship will look at the color ? There 
is a pattern of amber with gold thread might please you bet- 
ter. Lady Castlemaine has ordered a court mantua ” 

Lady Eareham rang her hand-bell with a vehemence 
that suggested anger. 

‘'‘^Show Mrs. Lewin to her coach,” she said shortly, 
when her woman appeared. When you have done that 
you may go to bed ; I want nothing more to-night.” 


320 When The World Was Younger. 

Mrs. Kirkland has been asking to see your ladyship.” 

'‘I will see no one to-night. Tell Mrs. Kirkland so, 
with my love.” 

She ran to the door when maid and milliner were gone, 
and locked it, and then ran back to the fireplace, and fiung 
herself down upon the rug to read her letter. 

Cherie, when this is handed to yon, I shall be sitting 
in my coach on the dull Dover road, with mud-splashed 
windows and a heart heavier than your leaden skies. Loveli- 
est of women, all things must end ; and, despite your sweet 
childlike trust in man^s virtue, you could scarce hope for 
eternity to a bond that was too strong for friendship and 
too weak for love. Dearest, had you given yourself that 
claim upon love and honor which w’e have talked of, and 
which you have ever refused, no lesser power than death 
should have parted us. I would have dared all, conquered 
all, for my dear mistress. But you would not. It was not 
for lack of fervid prayers that the statue remained a statue ; 
hut a man cannot go on worshiping a statue forever. If 
the Holy Mother did not sometimes vouchsafe a sign of 
human feelings, even good Catholics would have left off 
kneeling to her image. 

Or, shall I say, rather, that the child remains a child 
— fresh, and pure, and innocent, and candid as in the days 
when we played our jeu de volant in your grandmother^s 
garden — fit emblem of the light love of our future years. 
You remained a child. Hyacinth, and asked childish love- 
making from a man. Dearest, accept a cruel truth from 
a man of the world — it is only the love you call guilty that 
lasts. There is a stimulus in sin and mystery that will fan 
the fiame of passion and keep love alive even for an inferior 
object. The ugly women know this, and make lax morals 
a substitute for beauty. An innocent intrigue, a butterfly 
affection like ours, will seldom outlive a summer. Indeed, 


321 


Dido. 

I sometimes admire myself as a marvel of constancy for 
having kept faith so long with a mistress who has rewarded 
me so sparingly. 

So, my angel, I am leaving your foggy island, my 
cramped London lodgings, and extortionate London trades- 
men, on whom I have squandered so much of my fortune 
that they ought to forgive me for leaving a margin of debt, 
which I hope to pay the extortioners hereafter for the 
honor of my name. I doubt if I shall ever revisit Eng- 
land. I have tasted all London pleasures, till familiarity 
has taken the taste out of them ; and though Paris may 
be only London with a difference, that difference includes 
bluer skies, brighter streets and gardens, and all the origi- 
nals of which you have here the copies. There at least, I 
shall have the fashion of my peruke and my speech at first 
hand. Here you only adopt a mode when Paris begins to 
tire of it. 

Farewell, then, dearest lady, but let it be no tragical or 
eternal parting, since your fine house in the Eue de Tou- 
raine will doubtless be honored with your presence some day. 
You have only to open a salon there in order to be the top 
of the mode. Some really patrician milieu is needed to 
replace the antique court of the dear old marquise, and to 
extinguish the Scudery, whose Saturdays grow more 
vulgar every week. Yes, you will come to Paris, bring- 
ing that human lily, Mrs. Angela, in your train ; and 
I promise to make you the fashion before your house 
has been open a month. The wits and court favor- 
ites will go where I bid them. And though your dearest 
friend, Madame de Longueville, has retired from a world 
in which she was more queenly than the queen, you will 
find Mademoiselle de Montpensier as faitliful as ever to 
mundane pleasures, and after having refused kings and 
princes slavishly devoted to a Colonel of Dragoons, who 
does not care a straw for her. 


21 


322 


When The World Was Younger. 


Louise de Bourbon, a woman who can head a revolt 
and fire a cannon, would think no sacrifice too great for a 
cold-hearted schemer like Lauzun — yet you who swore you 
loved me, when the coach was waiting that would have car- 
ried me to paradise, and made us one for all this life, could 
suffer a foolish girl to separate us in the very moment 
of triumphant union. You were mine. Hyacinth ; heart 
and mind were consenting, when your convent-bred sister 
surprised us, and all my hopes of bliss expired in a sermon. 
And now I can but say, with that rhymester, whom every- 
body in London quotes, ^ Love in your heart as idly burns, 
as fire in antique Roman urns.^^ 

Good-bye, which means ^ God be with you.^ I know 
not if the fear of Him was in your mind when you sacri- 
ficed your lover to that icy abstraction women call virtue. 
The Romans had but one virtue, which meant the courage 
that dares ; and to me the highest type of woman would be 
one whose bold spirit dared and defied the world for lovers 
sake. These are the women history remembers, and whom 
the men who live after them worship. Cleopatra, Mary 
Stuart, Diana of Poictiers, Marguerite of Valois, la Che- 
vreuse, la Montibazon, did not become famous by keeping 
their lovers at a distance. 

Go, lovely rose ! 

How often I have sung those lines, and you have list- 
ened, and nothing has come of it, except time wasted — 
beauty too choice to be kind ? Adieu ! 

De Maleokt."^ 

When she had read these last words, she crumpled the 
letter in her palm, clenching her fingers over it till the 
nails wounded the delicate flesh ; and then she opened her 
hand and employed herself in smoothing out the crumpled 
paper, as if her life depended on making the letter readable 
again. But her pains could not undo what her passion 


Dido. 


323 


had done ; and finding this, she tossed the ragged paper 
into the flames, and began to walk about the room in a 
distracted fashion, giving a little hysterical cry every now 
and then, and clasping her hands upon her forehead. 

Anger, humiliation, wounded love, wounded vanity, dis- 
appointment, disillusion, were all in that cry, and in the 
passionate beating of her heart, her stifled breath, her 
clenched hands. 

He was laughing when he wrote that letter — I am sure 
he was laughing. There was not one serious moment, not 
one pang at leaving me ! He has been laughing at me 
ever since he came to London. I have been his fool, his 
amusement. Other women have had his love, the guilty 
love that he praises ! He has come to me reeling from their 
wicked houses, their feasting, and riot, and drunkenness — 
has come and pretended to love poetry, and Scudery'^s roman- 
ces and music, and innocent conversation — come to rest 
himself after dissolute pleasures, bringing me the leavings of 
that hellish company ! And I have reviled such women, 
and he has pretended an equal horror of them ; and he 
was their slave all the time, and went from me to them, 
and made a jest of me for their amusement. I know his 
biting raillery. And he was at the play day after day, 
where I could not go, sitting side by side with his jezebels, 
laughing at flltby plays, and at me that was forbidden to 
appear there. He had pleasures of which I knew nothing ; 
and when I fancied our inmost souls moved in harmony, 
his thoughts were full of wanton women and their wanton 
jests, and he smiled at my childishness, and fooled me as 
children are fooled.^'’ 

The thought was distraction. She plucked out handfuls 
of her pale gold hair, the pretty blonde hair which had 
been almost as famous in Paris as Beaufort^s or Madame de 
Longueville’s yellow locks. The thought of De Malfork’s 
ridicule cut her like a whale-bone whip. She had fancied 


324 


When The World Was Younger. 


herself his queen, his Beatrice, his Laura, his Stella a ; 
being to be admired as reverently as the stars, to make her 
lover happy with smiles and kindly words, to stand forever 
a little way olf, like a goddess in her temple, yet near j 
enough to be adored. i 

And fondly believing this to be her mission, having 
posed for the character, and filled it to her own fancy, she 
found that she had only been a dissolute man^s dupe all 
the time ; and no doubt had been the laughing-stock of 
her acquaintances, who looked on at the game. ,1 i 

And I was so proud of his devotion — I carried my slave ] 
everywhere with me. Oh, fool, fool, fool ! j 

And then the poor little brains, being disordered by pas- ! 
sionate regrets, wickedest ideas ran riot in the confusion j 
of a mind not wide enough to hold lifers large passions, j 
She began to be sorry that she w^as not like those other. I 
women — to hate the modesty that had lost her a lover. 

To be like Barbara Castlemaine ! That was woman^s 
only royalty. To rule with sovereign power over the hearts 
and senses of men. A king for her lover, constant in in- 
constancy, always going back to her from every transient 
fancy — her property, her chattel; and the foremost wits 
and dandies of the age for her servants, her court of ador- 
ers, whom she ruled with frowns or smiles, as her humor , 
prompted. To be daring, profuse, reckless, tyrannical ; to 
sufier no control of heaven or men — yes, that was, indeed, 
to be a queen ! And compared with such empire, the poor 
authority of the Precieuse, dictating the choice of adjec- 
tives, condemning pronouns, theorizing upon feelings and 
passions of which in practice she knows nothing, was a 
thing for scornfullest laughter. 


Philaster. 


325 


CHAPTER XX. 

PHILASTER. 

January was nearly over, the memorial service for the 
martyred king was drawing near, and royalty and fashion 
had deserted Whitehall for Hampton Court ;yet the Fare- 
hams lingered at their riverside mansion. His lordship had 
business in London, while Sir Denzil AYarner, who came to 
Eareham House daily, was also detained in the city for 
some special occasion, which made hawk and hound, and 
even his worthy mother^s company, indifferent to him. 

Lady Eareham had an air of caring for neither town nor 
country, but on the whole preferred town. 

London has become a positive desert — and the smoke 
from the smouldering ruins poisons the garden and terrace 
whenever there is an east wind,’"* she complained. But 
Oxfordshire would be a worse desert — and I believe I should 
die of the spleen in a week, if I trusted myself in that great 
rambling abbey. I can just suffer life in London ; so I sup- 
pose I had best stay till his lordship has finished his busi- 
ness, about which he is ever so secret and mysterious.^"’ 

Denzil was more devoted, more solicitous to please than 
ever ; and had a better chance of ]Dleasing now that most of 
her ladyship’s fine visitors had left town. He read aloud to 
Hyacinth and her sister as they worked — or pretended to 
work at their embroidery frames. He played the organ, 
and sang duets with Angela. He walked with her on the 
terrace, in the cold, bleak afternoon, and told her the news 
of the town — not the scandals and brutalities which alone 
interested Lady Eareham, but the graver facts connected 


326 When The World Was Younger. 

with the state and the public welfare — the prospects of war 
or peace, the outlook towards France and Spain, Holland 
and Sweden, Andrew MarveFs last speech, or the last grant 
to the king, who might be relied on to oppose no popular 
measure when his lieges were about to provide a handsome 
subsidy or an increase of his revenue. 

We are winning our liberties from him,^^ Henzil said ; 
for the mess of pottage we give, the money he squanders 
on libertine pleasures, England is buying freedom. Yet 
why, in the name of common sense, maintain this phantom 
king, this court which shocks and outrages every decent 
Englishman’s sense of right, and maintains an everwiden- 
ing hotbed of corruption, so that habits and extrava- 
gances once unknown beyond that focus of all vice, are now 
spreading as fast as London ; and wherever there are bricks 
and mortar there are profligacy and irreligion ? Can you 
wonder that all the best and wisest in this city regret Orom- 
well's iron rule, the rule of the strongest, and deplore that 
so bold a stroke for liberty should have ended in such fool- 
ish subservience to a king of whom we knew nothing when 
we begged him to become and reign over us ? ” 

But if you win liberty while he is king, if wise laws are 
established ” 

Yes ; but we might have been noble as well as free. 
There is something so petty in our assumed bondage. 
Figure to yourself a thoroughbred horse that had kicked 
off the traces, and stood free upon the open plain with 
arched neck and lifted nostrils, sniffing the morning air ! 
and behold he creeps back to his harness, and makes him- 
self again a slave ! We had done with the Stuarts, at the 
cost of a tragedy, and in ten years we call them back again 
and put on the old shackles ; and for common sense, relig- 
ion, and freedom, we have the orgies of Whitehall, and the 
extravagance of Lady Castlemaine. It will not last, An- 
gela j it cannot last. I was with his lordship in Artillery 


Philaster. 


327 


Row last niglit, and we talked with the blind sage who 
would sacrifice the remnant of his darkened days in the 
cause of liberty/^ 

Sir Denzil, I hope you are not plotting mischief — you 
and my brother,” Angela said, anxiously. You are so 
often together ; and his lordship has such a preoccupied 
air.” 

^‘No, no, there is no conspiring ; but there is plenty of 
discontent. It would need but little to fire the train. 
Can any man in his senses be happy when he sees his coun- 
try, which ten years ago was at the pinnacle of power and 
renown, sinking to the appanage of a foreign sovereign? 
England threatened with a return to Rome ; honest men 
forbidden to preach the gospel ; and innocent seekers after 
truth hounded off to jail, to rot among malefactors, because 
they have dared to worship Cod after their own fashion.” 

Where was your liberty of conscience under the Protec- 
torate, when the Liturgy was forbidden as if it were an un- 
holy thing, when the Anglican priests were turned out of 
their pulpits, and the Anglican service tolerated in only 
one church in all this vast London ? ” Angela asked, indig- 
nantly. 

That was a revolt of deep thinkers against a service 
which has all the mechanical artifice of Romanism without 
its strong appeal to the heart and the senses — dry, empty, 
rigid — a repetition of vain phrases. If I am ever to bow 
my neck beneath the Churches yoke, let me swallow the 
warm-blooded errors of papacy rather than the heartless 
formalism of English episcopacy.” 

But what can you or Eareham — or a few good men 
like you — do to change established things ? Remember 
Venner^s plot, and how many lives were wasted on that 
foolish futile attempt. You can only hazard your lives, 
die on the scaffold. Or would you like to see civil war 
again ; the nation divided into opposite camps ; English- 


328 When The World Was Younger. 

men fighting with Englishmen ? Can yon forget that dread- 
ful last year of the Kebellion ? I was only a little child ; 
but it is branded deep on my memory. Can you forget 
the murder of the king ? He was murdered ; let Mr. 
Milton defend the deed as he can with his riches of big 
words. I have wept over the royal martyr^s own account 
of his sufferings.^’ 

Over Dr. Gauden^s account, that is to say. ^ Eikon 
Basilike ^ was no more written by Charles than by Crom- 
well. It was a doctored composition — a churchman^s 
spurious history, trumped up by Charleses friends and parti- 
sans, possibly with the approval of the king himself. It 
is a fine piece of special pleading in a bad cause. 

You make me hate you when you talk so slightingly 
of that so ill-used king. You will make me hate you more 
if you lead Eareham into danger by underhand work 
against the present king.^^ 

Lies Fareham’s safety so very near your heart ? 

It lies in my heart, she answered, looking at him, and 
defying him with straight, clear gaze. ^Hs he not my 
sister’s husband, and to me as a brother ? Do you expect 
me to be careless about his fate ? I know you are leading 
him into danger. Some evil must come of these visits to 
Mr. Milton, a Eepublican outlaw, who has escaped the pen- 
alty of his treasonous pamphlets only because he is blind 
and old and poor. I doubt there is danger in all such 
conferences. Eareham is at heart a Eepublican. It would 
need little persuasion to make him a traitor to the king. ” 

You have it in your power to make me so much your 
slave, that I would sacrifice every patriotic aspiration at 
your bidding, Angela,” Denzil answered gravely. ^^I 
know not if this be the time to speak, or if, after waiting 
more than a year, I may not even now be premature. 
Dearest girl, you know that I love you — that I haunt this 
house only because you live here ; that I am in London 


Philaster. 


329 


only because my star shines there ; that above all public 
interests you rule my life. I have exercised a prodigious 
patience, only because I have a prodigious resolution. Is 
it not time for me to reap my reward ? 

Oh, Denzil, you fill me with sorrow ! Have I not said 
everything to discourage you ? 

And have I not refused to be discouraged ? Angela, 
I am resolved to discover the reason of your coldness. Was 
there ever a young and lovely woman who shut love out of 
her heart ? History has no record of such an one. I am 
of an appropriate age, of good birth and good means, not 
uneducated, not brutish, or of repulsive face and figure. 
If your heart is free I ought to be able to win it. If you 
will not favor my suit, it must be because there is some one 
else, some one who came before me, or who has crossed 
my path, and to whom your heart has been secretly given.” 

She had turned from red to pale as he spoke. She stood 
before him in the winter light, with her color changing, 
her hands tightly clasped, her eyes cast down, and tears 
trembling on the long dark lashes. 

You have no right to question me. It is enough for 
you to have my honest answer. I esteem you ; but I do 
not love you ; and it distresses me when you talk of love.” 

There is some one else, then ! I knew it. There is 
some one else. For me you are marble. You are fire for 
him. He is in your heart. You have said it.” 

How dare you ” she began. 

Why should I shrink from warning you of your dan- 
ger ? It is Fareham you love. I have seen you tremble 
at his touch — start at the sound of his footstep — that step 
you know so well. His footstep ? Why, the very air he 
breathes carries to you the consciousness of his approach. 
Oh, I have watched you both, Angela ; and I know, I 
know. Jealous pangs have racked me, day after day ; yet 
I have hung on. I have been very patient. " She knows 


330 


When The World Was Younger. 


not the sinful impulses of her own heart/ I said, ^ knows 
not in her purity how near she goes to a fall. iJere, in 
her sister's house, passionately loved by her sister's hus- 
band ! She calls him ^ brother,' whose eyes cannot look 
at her without telling their story of wicked love. She 
walks on the edge of a precipice — self-deceived. Were I 
to abandon her she might fall. My alfection is her only 
safeguard ; and not winning her to myself I shall snatch 
her from the pit of hell." 

It was the truth he was telling her. Yes ; even when 
he was harshest, she had been dimly conscious that love 
was at the root of liis unkindness. The coldness that had 
held them apart since that midnight meeting had been ice 
over fire. It was jealousy that had made him so angry. 
'No word of love, directly spoken, had ever offended her 
ear ; hut there had been many a speech of double meaning 
that had set her wondering and thinking. 

And, oh ! the guilt of it, when an honorable man like 
Denzil set her sin before her, in plain language. She stood 
aghast at her own wickedness. That which had been a 
sin of thought only, a secret sorrow, wrestled with in many 
an hour of heartfelt prayer, with all the labor of a soul 
that sought heavenly aid against earthly temptation, was 
conjured into hideous reality by Denzil's plain speech. 
To love her sister's husband, to suffer his guilty love, to 
know gladness only in his company, to be exquisitely happy 
were he but in the same room v/ith her — to sink to pro- 
foundest melancholy when he was absent. Oh, the sin of 
it ! In what degree did her guilt differ from that of the 
women of the court, who had each her open secret in some 
base intrigue that all the Avorld knew and laughed at ? 
She had been kept aloof from that libertine crew ; but 
was she any better than they ? Was Tareham, who openly 
scorned the royal debauchee, was he any better than the 
king ? 


Philaster. 


331 


She remembered how he had talked of Lord Sandwich, 
making excuses for a perverted love. She had heard him 
speak of other offenders in the same strain ; always ready 
to recognize fatality where a good Catholic would have 
perceived only sin. 

"^Angela, believe me, you are drifting helmless in 
perilous waters. Let me be your strong rock. Only give 
me the promise of your hand. I can be patient still. I 
will give time for love to grow\ Grant me but the right 
to guard you from the danger of an unholy passion that 
is always near you in this house.” 

^^You pretend to be his lordship^s friend, and you 
speak slander of him.” 

I am his friend. I could find it in my heart to pity 
him for loving you. Indeed, it has been in friendship 
that I have tried to interest him in a great national ques- 
tion — to wean him from his darling sin. But were you 
my wife he should never cross our threshold. The day 
that made us one should make you and Fareham strangers. 
It is for you to choose, Angela, between two men who love 
you — one near your own age, free. God-fearing ; the other 
nearly old enough to be your father, bound by the tie 
which your church deems indissoluble, whose love is insult 
and pollution, and can but end in shame and despair. It 
is for you to choose between honest and dishonest love.” 

There is a nobler choice open to me,” she said, more 
calmly than she had yet spoken, and with a pale dignity 
in her countenance that awed him. A thrill of admiration 
and fear ran along his nerves as he looked at her. She 
seemed transfigured. There is a higher and better love,” 
she said. This is not the first time that I have considered 
a sure way out of all my difficulties. I can go back to the 
convent where, in my dear Aunt Anastasia, I saw so 
splendid an example of a holy life hidden from the world.” 

Life buried in a living grave ! ” cried Denzil, horror- 


33^ When The World Was Youngef. 

stricken at the idea of such a sacrifice. Sense and reason 
obscured in a cloud of incense ! All the great uses of a 
noble life brought down to petty observances and childish 
mummeries, prayers and genufiections before waxen relics 
and dressed-up madonnas. Oh, my dearest girl, next worst 
only to the dominion of sin is the slavery of a false religion. 
I would have thee free as air — free and enlightened — 
released from the trammels of Eome. Happy in thyself 
and useful to thy fellow-creatures.'’^ 

You see. Sir Denzil, even if we loved each other, we 
could never think alike, Angela said, with a gentle sad- 
ness. Our minds would always dwell far apart. Things 
that are dear and sacred to me are hateful to you.^^ 

If you loved me I could win you to my way of think- 
ing,” he said. 

You mean that if I loved you I should love you better 
than I love Ood?” 

^'Hot so, dear. But you would open your mind to the 
truth. St. Paul sanctified union between Christian and 
pagan, and deemed the unbelieving wife sanctified by the 
believing husband. There can be no sin, therefore, de- 
spite my poor mother’s violent opinions, in the union of 
those who worship the same God, and whose creed differs 
only in particulars.” 

How knowest thou, 0 man, whether thou shalt save 
thy wife ? ” 

Indeed, love, I doubt not my power to wean you from 
the errors of your early education.” 

Oh, you see, you see how wide apart we are. Every 
word you say widens the gulf betwixt us. Indeed, Sir 
Denzil, you had best remain my friend. You can be 
nothing else.” 

She turned from him almost impatiently. Young, 
handsome, of a frank and generous nature, he yet lacked 
the gifts that charm women ; or at least this one woman 


Philastei*. 


333 


was cold to him. It might be that in his own nature there 
was a coldness — something of passion Which burns in the 
verse of many a poet of the age ever a stranger to that 
white heat of passion which burns in the verse of many a 
lesser singer. 

Papillon came flying along the terrace, her skirts and 
waving tresses spread wide in the wind, a welcome 
intruder. 

'‘^What are yon and Sir Denzil doing in the cold ? I 
have news for my dear, dearest auntie. My lord is in a 
good humor, and ^ Philaster ^ is to be acted by the duke^’s 
servants, and her ladyship^s footmen are keeping places 
for ns in the boxes. I have only seen three plays in my 
life, and they were all sad ones. I wish ^ Philaster ^ was a 
comedy. I should like to see ^ Love in a Tuh.^ That 
must be funny. But his honor likes only grave plays. Be 
brisk, auntie ! The coach will be at the door directly. 
Come and put on your hood. His lordship says we need 
no masks. I should have loved to wear a mask. Are you 
coming to the play. Sir Denzil ? 

I know not if I am bidden, or if there be a place for 
me.” 

Why, you can stand with the fops in the pit, and you 
can buy us some China oranges. I heard Lady Sarah tell 
my mother that the new little actress with the pretty feet 
was once an orange-girl, who lived with Lord Buckhurst. 
Why did he have an orange-girl to live with him ? He 
must be vastly fond of oranges. I should love to sell oranges 
in the pit, if I could be an actress afterwards ; I would 
rather be an actress than a duchess. Mademoiselle taught 
me Chimene tirades in Corneille^s Le Cid. I learn quicker 
than any pupil she ever had. Monsieur de Malfort once 
said I was a born actress,” pursued Papillon, as they walked 
to the house. 

Philaster ! ” That story of unhappy love — so pure. 


334 When The World Was Younger. 

patient, melancholy, disinterested. How often Angela had 
hung over the page, in the solitude of her own chamber. 
And to hear the lines spoken to-day, when a tempest of 
emotion had been raised in her breast, with Fareham by 
her side ; to meet his glances at this or that moment of 
the play, when the devoted girl was revealing the secret of 
her passionate heart. Yet never was love freer from taint 
of sin, and the end of the play was in no wise tragic. That 
pure affection was encouraged and sanctified by the happy 
bride. Bellario was not to be banished, but sheltered. 

Alas ! yes ; but this was love unreturned. There was 
no answering warmth on PhilasteFs part, no fire of passion 
to scathe and destroy ; only a gentle gratitude for the girFs 
devotion — a brothers, not a loveFs regard. 

She found Fareham and her sister in the hall ready to 
step into the coach. 

I saw the name of your favorite play on the posts as I 
walked home,^^ he said ; and as Hyacinth is always teas- 
ing me for denying her the playhouse, I thought this was 
a good opportunity for pleasing you both.'’^ 

You would have pleased me more if you had offered me 
the chance of seeing a new comedy,'’^ she retorted pettishly. 

Ah, dearest, let us not open an old quarrel. The play- 
wrights of ElizabetlFs age were poets and gentlemen. The 
men who write for us are blackguards and empty-headed 
fops. We have novelty, which is all most of us want, a 
hundred new plays in a year, of which scarce one will be 
remembered after the year is out.^'’ 

Who wants to remember ? The highest merit in a play 
is that it should be a refiection of to-day ; and who minds 
if it is stale to-morrow ? To hold the mirror up to nature, 
doesn’t your Shakespere say ? And what more transient 
than the image in a glass ? A comedy should be like one’s 
hat or one’s gown, the top of the mode to-day, and cast off 
and forgotten to-morrow.” 


Philaster. 


335 


That is what our fine gentlemen think ; who are satis- 
fied if their wit gets three days^ acceptance, and some sub- 
stantial compliment from the patron to whom they dedicate 
their trash. 

His lordship^s liveries and four gray horses made a stir 
in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and startled the crowd at the doors 
of the Hew Theater ; and within the house Lady Fareham 
and her sister divided the attention of the pit with their 
royal highnesses the duke and duchess, who no longer 
amused or scandalized the audience by those honeymoon 
coquetries which had distinguished their earlier appearances 
in public. Duchess Ann was growing stout, and fast losing 
her beauty, and Duke James was imitating his brothers 
infidelities, after his own stealthy fashion ; so it may 
be that Olarendon^s daughter was no more happy than her 
sister-in-law the queen, nor than her father, the chancellor, 
over whom the shadows of royal disfavor were darkening. 

Lady Fareham lolled languidly back in her box, and let 
all the audience see her indifference to FletcheFs poetic 
dialogue. Angela sat motionless, her hands clasped in her 
lap, entranced by that romantic story, and the acting which 
gave life and reality to that poetic fable, as well it might 
when the incomparable Betterton played "" Philaster. 
Fareham stood beside his wife looking down at the stage, 
and sometimes, as Angela looked up, their eyes met in one 
swift flash of responsive thought ; met and glanced away, 
as if each knew the peril of such meetings— 

“ If it be love 

To forget aU respect of his own friends 
In thinking on your face.” 

Was it by chance that Fareham sighed as those lines were 
spoken. And again — 

“ If, when he goes to rest (which will not be), 

’Twixt every prayer he says he names you once.” 


336 When The World Was Younger. 

And again, was it chance that brought that swift, half- 
angry questioning look upon her from those severe eyes in 
the midst of Philaster’s tirade — 

“ How heaven is in your eyes, but in your hearts 
More hell than hell has ; how your tongues, like 
scorpions. 

Both heal and poison : how your thoughts are 
woven 

With thousand changes in one subtle web. 

And worn so by you. How that foolish man 
That reads the story of a woman’s face. 

And dies believing it is lost for ever.” 

It was Angela whose eyes unconsciously sought his when 
that passage occurred which had written itself upon her 
heart long ago at Chilton when she first read the play — 

“Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing 
Worthy your noble thoughts ; ’tis not a life, 

’Tis but a piece of childhood thrown away.” 

What was her poor life worth — so lonely even in her 
sister’s house — so desolate when his eyes looked not upon 
her in kindness ? After having lived for two brief 
summers and winters in his cherished company, having 
learnt to know what a proud, honorable man was like, 
his disdain of vice, his indifference to court favor, his 
aspirations for liberty ; after having known him and loved 
him with silent and secret love, what better could she do 
than bury herself within convent walls, and spend the rest 
of her days in praying for those she loved ? Alas, he had 
such need that some faithful soul should soar heavenward 
in supplication for him who had himself so weak a hold 
upon the skies ! Alas, to think of him as unbelieving, 
putting his trust in the opinions of infidels like Hobbes or 
Spinoza, rather than leaning on that rock of ages the 
Church of St. Peter. 

If she could not live for him — if it were a sin even to 


Philaster. 


337 


dwell under the same roof with him — she could at least 
die for him — die to the world of pleasure and folly, of beauty 
and splendor, die to friendship and love ; sink all individ- 
uality under the monastic rule ; cease to be, except as a 
part in a great organization, an atom, acting and acted 
upon by higher powers ; surrendering every desire and 
every hope that distinguished her from the multitude of 
women vowed to a holy life. 

“Never, sir, will I 

Marry ; it is a thing within my vow.” 

The voice of the actress sounded silver-clear as Bellario 
spoke her last speech, finishing her story of a love which 
can submit to take the lower place, and asks but little of 
fate. 

“ It is a thing within my vow.” 

The line repeated itself in Angela^s mind as Denzil met 
them at the door, and handed her into the coach. 

Should she prove of weaker stuff than the sad Eufrasia, 
and accept a husband she did not love ? This humdrum 
modern age allowed of no romance. She could not stain 
her face with walnut-juice, and disguise herself as a foot- 
boy, and live unknown in his service, to wait upon him 
when he was weary, to nurse him when he was sick. Such 
a life she would have deemed exquisitely happy ; but the 
hard everyday world had no room for such dreams. In 
this unromantic age DioAs daughter would be recognized 
within twenty-four hours of her putting on male attire. 
The golden days of poetry were dead. Una would find no 
lion to fawn at her feet. She would be mobbed in the 
Strand. 

Oh, that it could have been 1 ” thought Angela, as the 
coach jolted and rumbled through the narrow ways, and 
shaved awkward corners with its ponderous wheels, and 
22 


338 When The World Was Youngef. 

got its horses entangled with other noble teams, to the 
provocation of much ill language from postilions, and 
flunkeys, and linkmen, for it was dark when they came 
out of the theater, and a thick mist was rising from the 
river, and flambeaux were flaring up and down the dim 
narrow thoroughfares. 

^^They light the streets better in Paris, complained 
Hyacinth. In the Eue de Touraine we had a lamp to 
every house. 

I like to see the links moving up and down,^^ said 
Papillon ; Tis ever so much prettier than lanterns that 
stand still — like that one at the corner. 

She pointed to a small round lamp that seemed to ac- 
centuate the winter gloom. 

Here the lamps stink more than they light,” said 
Hyacinth. ^^How the coach rocks — those blockheads 
will end by upsetting it. I should have been twice as well 
in my chair.” 

Angela sat in her place lost in thought, and hardly con- 
scious of the jolting coach, or of Papillon^s prattle, who 
would not be satisfled till she had dragged her aunt into 
the conversation. 

Did you not love the play, and w^ould you not love to 
be a Princess like Arethusa, and to wear such a necklace ? 
Mother’s diamonds are not half as big.” 

Pshaw, child, ’twas absolute glass — arrant trumpery.” 

But her gown was not trumpery. It was Lady Castle- 
maine’s last birthday gown. I heard a lady telling her 
friend about it in the seat next to mine. Lady Castle- 
maine gave it to the actress ; and it cost three hundred 
pounds — and Lady Castlemaine is all that there is of the 
most extravagant, the lady said, and old Eowley has to 
pay her debts — (who is old Eowley, and why does he pay 
people’s debts ?) though she is the most unscrupulous — I 
forget the word — in London.” 


Philaster. 


339 

You see, madame, what a good school the playhouse 
is for your child/'’ said Fareham, grimly. 

I never asked you to take our child there. 

Nay, Hyacinth ; but a mother should enter no scene 
unfit for her daughters innocence.'’^ 

Oh, my lord, your opinions are of the Protectorate. 
You would he better in Yew England — tilling your fields 
reclaimed from the waste.” 

Yes, I might he better there, reclaimed from the waste 
— of London life. Strange that your talk should hit up- 
on Yew England. I was thinking of that Yew World not 
an hour ago at the play — thinking what a happy innocent 
life a man might lead there, were he but young and free, 
with one he loved.” 

Innocent, yes ; happy, no ; unless he were a savage or 
a peasant,” Hyacinth exclaimed disdainfully. We that 
have known the grace and beauty of life cannot go hack 
to the habits of our ancestors, to eat without forks, and 
cover our fioors with rushes instead of Persian carpets.” 

The beauty and grace of life — houses that are whited 
sepulchers, banquets where there is no love.” 

Papillon sprang off the coach step into her fathers 
arms. 

The coach stopped before the tall Italian doorway, and 
Eareham handed out his wife and sister in silence ; but 
there was one of the party to whom it was unnatural to be 
mute. 

Sweetheart, why are you so sad ?” she asked. You 
look more unhappy than Philaster when he thought his 
lady loved him not.” 

She would not be put ofi, but hung about him all the 
length of the corridor, to the door of his room, where he 
parted from her with a kiss on her forehead. 

How your lips burn,” she cried. I hope you are 
not sickening for the plague. I dreamt last night that the 


340 


When The World Was Younger. 


contagion had come back ; and that our new glass coach 
was going about with a bell collecting the dead.” 

^‘^Thou hadst eaten too much supper, sweet. Such 
dreams are warnings against excess of pies and jellies. 
Go, love, I have business.” 

You have always business now. You used to let me 
stay with you — even when you was busy,” Henri ette re- 
monstrated, dejectedly, as the sonorous oak door closed 
against her. 

Fareham flung himself into his chair in front of the 
large table, with its heaped-up books and litter of papers. 
Straight before him there lay Milton^’s pamphlet — a pub- 
lication of ten years ago : but he had been reading it 
only that morning — The Doctrine and Discipline of 
Divorce.” 

There were sentences which seemed to him to stand out 
upon the page, almost as if written in Are ; and to these 
he recurred again and again, brooding over and weighing 
every word. . . . . Neither can this law be of force to 
engage a blameless creature to his own perpetual sorrow, 
mistaken for his expected solace, without suffering charity 
to step in and do a confessed good work of parting those 
whom nothing holds together but this of God^s joining, 
falsely supposed against the express end of his own ordi- 
nance. ... ^ It is not good,^ said He, ^ that man should 

be alone, I will make him a helpmeet for him.^ From 
which words, so plain, less cannot be concluded, nor is by 
any learned interpreter, than that in God^s intention a 
meet and happy conversation is the chiefest and noblest 
end of marriage. . . . Again, where the mind is unsatis- 
fled, the solitariness of man, which God had namely and 
principally ordered to prevent by marriage, hath no rem- 
edy, but lies in a worse condition than the loneliest sin- 
gle life ; for in single life the absence and remoteness of a 
helper might inure him to expect his own comforts out of 


341 


Good-bye, London. 

liimself, or to seek with hope ; hut here the continual 
sight of his deluded thoughts, without cure, must needs 
be to him, if especially his complexion incline him to mel- 
ancholy a daily trouble and pain of loss, in some degree 
like that which reprobates feel.^^ 

He closed the book, and started up to pace the long lofty 
room, full of shadow, betwixt the light of the fire, and 
that one pair of candles on his reading-desk. 

Eeprohate. Yes. Am not I a reprobate, and the 
worst, plotting against innocence ? New England, he 
repeated to himself. How much the name promises ! 
A new world, a new life, and old fetters struck off. God, 
if it could be done ! It would hurt no one — no one — ex- 
cept perhaps those children, who might suffer a brief sor- 
row, and it would make two lives happy that must he 
blighted else. Two lives ! Am I so sure of her ? Yes, 
if eyes speak true. Sure as of my own fond passion. The 
contagion, quotha ! I have suffered that, sweet, and know 
its icy sweats and parching heats ; hut Tis not so fierce a 
fever as that devilish disease, the longing for your company."^ 


CHAPTER XXI. 

GOOD-BYE, LOKDOIf. 

Sitting in her own room before supper, a letter was 
brought to Angela — a long letter, closely written, in a neat, 
firm hand she knew very well. 

It was from Denzil AYarner ; a letter full of earnest 
thought and warm feeling, in which he pursued the sub- 
ject of their morning’s discourse. 

We were interrupted before I had time to open my 


342 


When The World Was Younger. 


heart to you, dearest, he wrote ; and at a moment 
when we had touched on the most delicate point in our 
friendship — the difference in our religious education and 
observance. Oh, my beloved, let not difference in par- 
ticulars divide two hearts that worship the same God, or 
make a barrier between two minds that think alike upon 
essentials. The Christ who died for you is not less my 
Saviour because I love not to obtrude the dressed-up image 
of His earthly mother between His Godhead and my 
prayers. In the regeneration of baptism, in the sanctity 
of marriage, in the resurrection of the body and the life of 
the world to come, in the reality of sin and the necessity 
for repentance, I believe as truly as any papist living. 
Let our lives be but once united, who knows how the 
future may shape and modify our minds and our faith. I 
may be brought to your way of thinking, or you to mine. 
I will pledge myself never to be guilty of disrespect to 
your religion, or to unkindly urge you to any change in 
your observances. I am not one of those who have 
exchanged one tyranny for another, and who, released 
from the dominion of Rome, have become the slave of the 
Covenant. I have been taught by one who, himself deeply 
religious, would have all men free to worship God by the 
light of their own conscience ; and to my wife, that dearer 
half of my soul, I would allow perfect freedom. I suffer 
from the lack of poetic phrases with which to embellish 
the plain reality of my love ; but be sure, Angela, that 
you may travel far through the world, and receive many 
a flowery compliment to your beauty, yet meet none who 
will love you as faithfully as I have loved you for this 
year last past, and as I doubt I shall love you — happy or 
unfortunate in my wooing — for all the rest of my life. 
Think, dearest, whether it were not wise on your part to 
accept the chaste and respectful homage of a suitor who 
is free to love and cherish you, and thus to shield yourself 


343 


' Good-bye, London. 

from the sinful pursuit of one who offends Heaven and 
dishonors you whenever he looks at you with the eyes of a 
lover. I would not write harshly of a man whose very sin 
I pity, and whom I believe not wholly vile ; hut for him, 
as forme, that were a happy day which should make you 
my wife, and thus end the madness of unholy hopes. I 
would again urge that Lady Fareham desires our union 
with all a sisteFs concern for you, and more than a friend^s 
tenderness to me. 

I beseech your pardon and indulgence for my rough 
words of this morning. Grod forbid that I should impute 
one unworthy thought to her whose virtues I honor above 
all earthly merit. If your heart inclines toward one whom 
it were misery for you to love, I know that it must be 
with an affection pure and ethereal as the love of the 
disguised girl in Fletcher^s play. But, ah, dearest angel, 
you know not the peril in which you walk. Your inno- 
cent mind cannot conceive the audacious height to which 
unholy love may climb in a man^s fiery nature. You cannot 
fathom the black depths of such a character as Fareham 
— a man as capable of greatness in evil as of distinction 
in good. Forget not whose fierce blood runs in those veins. 
Can you doubt his audacity in wrong-doing, when you re- 
member that he comes of the same stock which produced 
that renegade and tyrant, Thomas Wentworth — a man 
who would have waded deep in the blood of a nation to 
reach his desired goal, all the history of whose life was 
expressed by him in one word — ^ thorough ^ 

Do you consider what that word means to a man over 
whose heart sin has taken the upper hand ? Thorough ! 
How resolute in evil, how undaunted and without limit 
in baseness, is he who takes that word for his motto ! 
Oh, my love, there are dragons and lions about thy innocent 
footsteps — the dragons of lust, the lions of presumptuous 
love. Flee from thy worst enemy, dearest, to the shelter of 


344 When The World Was Younger. 

a heart which adores thee ; lean upon a breast whose pulses 
beat for thee with a truth that time cannot change. 

Thine till death, 

Wakkek." 

Angela tore up the letter in anger. How dared he 
write thus of Lord Fareham ? To impute sinful passions, 
guilty desires — to enter into another man^s mind, and 
read the secret cipher of his thoughts and wishes with an 
assumed key, which might be false ? His letter was a 
bundle of false assumptions. What right had he to insist 
that her brother-in-law cared for her with more than the 
affection authorized by affinity ? He had no right. She 
hated him for his insolent letter. She scorned the protec- 
tion of his love. She had her refuge and her shelter in a 
holier love than his. The doors of her old home would 
open to her at a word. 

She sat on a low stool in front of the hearth, while the 
pile of ship-timber on the andirons burnt itself out and 
turned from red to gray. She sat looking into the dying 
fire and recalling the pictures of the past ; the dull gray 
convent rooms and formal convent garden ; the petty rules 
and restrictions ; the so-frequent functions — low mass and 
high, benedictions, vespers — the recurrent sound of the 
chapel bell. The few dull books, permitted in the hour of 
so-called recreation ; the somber gray gown, which was 
the only relief from perpetual black ; the limitations of 
that colorless life. She had been happy with the Ursulines 
under her great aunFs gentle sway. But could she be 
happy with the present superior, whose domineering temper 
she knew ? She had been happy in her ignorance of the 
outer world ; but could she be happy again in that gray 
seclusion — she who had sat at the banquet of life, who had 
seen the beauty and the variety of her native land ? To 
be an exile for the rest of her days, in the hopeless gloom 


Good-bye, London. 345 

of a Flemish convent, among the heavy faces of Flemish 
nuns ! 

In the intensity of introspective thought she had forgot- 
ten one who had forbidden that gloomy seclusion, and to 
whom it would be as natural for her to look for protection 
and refuge as to convent or husband. From her thoughts 
to-night the image of her wandering father had been absent. 
His appearances in her life had been so rare and so brief, 
his influence on her destiny so slight, that she was forget- 
ful of him now in this crisis of her fate. 

It was within a week of that evening that the sisters 
were startled by the arrival of their father, unannounced, 
in the dusk of the winter afternoon. He had come by 
slow stages from Spain, riding the greater part of the 
journey, like Howell, fifty years earlier, attended only by 
one faithful soldier-servant, and enduring no small suffer- 
ing and running no slight risk upon the road. 

^^The wolves had our provender on more than one oc- 
casion,^^ he told them. The wonder is they never had 
us or our hackneys. I left Madrid in July, not long after 
the death of my poor friend Fanshawe. Indeed, it was his 
friendship and his good lady^s unvarying courtesy that took 
me to the capital. We had last met at Hampton Court, 
with the king, shortly before his majesty^s so ill-advised 
flight ; and we were bosom friends then. And so, he being 
dead of a fever early in the summer, I had no more to do 
but to travel slowly homeward, to end my days in my own 
chimney-corner, and to claim thy promise, Angela, that 
thou wouldst keep my house and comfort my declining 
years. 

Dear father ! Angela murmured, hanging over him 
as he sat in the great velvet chair by the fire, while her 
ladyship’s footmen set a table near him, with wine and 
provisions for an impromptu meal. Lady Fareham directing 


34^ When The World Was Younger. |! 

» 

them, and coming between whiles to embrace her father inj 
a flutter of spirits, the flrelight shining on her flame-colored 
velvet gown and primrose taffety petticoat, her pretty 
golden curls and sparkling sevigne, her ruby necklace and 
earrings, and her bright restless eyes. While the elder 
sister was all movement and agitation, the younger stood 
calm and still beside her father^s chair, her hand clasped 
in his, her thoughtful eyes looking down at him as he 
talked, stopping now and then in his story of adventures 
to eat and drink. 

He looked much older than when he surprised her in 
the convent garden. His hair and beard, then iron gray, 
were now silver white. He wore his own hair, which was 
abundant, and a beard cut after the fashion she knew in 
the portraits of Henri Quatre. His clothes were still of 
that style, which he had never changed, and which lived 
now only in the paintings of Vandyke and his school. 

How the girl looks at me ! Sir John said, surprising 
his daughter's earnest gaze. ^^Hoes she take me for a 
ghost ? " 

Indeed, sir, she may well fancy you have come back 
from the other world while you wear that antique suit,” 
said Hyacinth. I hope your flrst business to-morrow 
will be to replenish your wardrobe by the assistance of 
Lord Kochester's tailor. He is a German, and has the 
best cut for a justaucorps in all the West End. Eareham 
is bad enough to make a wife ashamed of him ; but his 
clothes are only poor and shabby for his condition. Your 
Spanish cloak and steeple hat are fitter for a traveling 
quack doctor than for a gentleman of quality, and your 
doublet and vest might have come out of the ark.” 

“Ill change them, it will be but to humor your vanity, 
sweetheart,” answered her father. I bought the suit in 
Paris three years ago, and I swore I would cast them back 
upon the snip's hands if he gave me any new-fangled 


Good-bye, London. 347 

! finery. But a riding-suit that has crossed the Pyrenees 
I and stood a winter^s wear at Montpelier — where I have 
been living since October — can scarce do credit to a fine 
I lady^s saloon ; and thou are finest, Ifil wager. Hyacinth, 
where all are fine."*^ 

You would not say that if you had seen Lady Castle- 
t maine’s rooms. I would wager that her tapestry cost 
, more than the contents of my house. 

Thou shouldst not envy sin in high places. Hyacinth. 

Envy ! I envy a 

Hay, love, no bad names ! ^Tis a sorry pass England 
has come to when the most conspicuous personage at her 
Court is the king’s mistress. I was with the queen-mother 
, at Paris, who received me mighty kindly, and bewailed 
• with me over the contrast betwixt her never-to-be-forgotten 
; husband and his sons. They have nothing of their father, 

, she told me, neither in person nor in mind. I know not 
; whence their folly comes to them ! ’ she cried. It would 
' have been uncivil to remind her that her own father, hero 
, as he was, had set no saintly example to royal husbands ; 
i and that it is possible our princes take more of their charac- 
: ter from their grandfather Henry, than from the martyr 
' Charles. Poor lady, I am told she left London deep in 
debt, after squandering her noble income of these latter 
years, and that she has sunk in the esteem of the French 
Court by her alliance with Jermyn.” 

I can but wonder that . she, above all women, should 
ever cease to be a widow.” 

She comes of a light-minded race and nation, Angela ; 
and it is easy to her to forget, or she would not easily for- 
get that so-adoring husband whose fortunes she ruined. 
His most fatal errors came from his subservience to her. 
When I saw her in her new splendor at Somerset House, 
all smiles and gayety, with youth and beauty revived in the 
sunshine of restored fortune, I could but remember all he 


34^ When The World Was Younger. ’ 

was, in dignity and manly affection, proud and pure as ( 
King Arthur in the old romance, and all she cost him by 
womanish tyrannies and prejudices, and difficult commands 
laid upon him at a juncture of so exceeding difficulty. 

The sisters listened in a respectful silence. The old 
cavalier cut a fresh slice of chine, sighed, and continued 
his sermon. 

I doubt that while we, the lookers on, remember, they, 
the actors, forget ; for could the son of such a noble victim 
wallow in a profligate court, surrender himself to the 
devilish necromancies of vicious women and viler men, if 
he remembered his father^s character, and his father^s 
death. Ko ; memory must be a blank, and we, who 
suffered with our royal master, are fools to prate of ingrati- 
tude or neglect, since the son who can forget such a father 
may well forget his father’s servants and friends. But we 
will not talk of public matters in the first hour of our 
greeting. Kor need I prate of the king, since I have not 
come back to England to clap a periwig over my gray 
hairs, and play waiter upon court favor, and wear out the 
back of my coat against the tapestry at Whitehall standing 
in the rear of the crowd, to have my toes trampled upon 
by the sharp heels of court ladies, and an elbow in my 
stomach more often than not. I am come, like Wolsey, 
girls, to lay my old bones among you. Art thou ready, 
Angela? Hast thou had enough of London, and play- 
houses, and parks, and wilt thou share thy father’s solitude 
in Buckinghamshire ? ” 

With all my heart, sir.” 

What ! never a sigh for London pleasures ? Thou 
hast the great lady’s air and carriage in that brave blue 
taffety. The nun I knew three years ago has vanished. 
Can you so lightly renounce the splendor of this house, 
and your sister’s company, to make a prosing old father 
liappy ? ” 


349 


Good-bye, London. 

Indeed, sir, I am ready to go with you.” 

How she says that — Avith what a sweet sad counte- 
nance of woeful resignation. But I will not make the manor 
house too severe a prison, dearest. You shall visit London, 
and your sister, when you will. There shall be a coach, 
and a team of stout roadsters to pull it when they are not 
wanted for the plough. And the Vale of Aylesbury is 
hut a long day^s journey from London, while Tis no more 
than a morning^s ride to Chilton.” 

I could not hear for her to he long away from me,” 
said Hyacinth. She is the only companion I have in the 
world.” 

Except your husband.” 

Husbands such as mine are poor company. Fareham 
has a moody brow, and a mind stuffed with public matters. 
He dines with Clarendon one day, and with Albemarle 
another ; or he goes to Deptford to grumble with Mr. 
Evelyn ; or he creeps aivay to some obscure quarter of the 
town to hob-nob with Milton or Marvel, the member for 
Hull. I doubt they are all of one mind in abusing his 
majesty, and conspiring against him. If I lose my sister 
I shall have no one.” 

^^What, no one; when you have Henriette, who even 
three years ago had shrewdness enough to keep an old 
grandfather amused Avith her impertinent prattle.” 

Grandfathers are easily amused by children they see 
as seldom as you have seen Papillon. To have her about 
you all day with her everlasting chatter, and questions, 
and remarks, and opinions (a brat of twelve with opinions), 
would soon give you the vapors.” 

I am not so subject to vapors as you, child. Let me 
look at you, noAV the candles are lighted.” 

The footmen had lighted clusters of wax candles on 
either side the tall chimney-piece. 

Sir John drcAV his elder daughter to the light, scruti- 


350 When The World Was Younger. 

nized her face with a father^s privilege of uncompromising 
survey. 

You paint thick enough, i^ conscience^ name, though 
not quite so thick as the Spanish senoras. They are 
browner than you, and need a heavier hand with white 
and red. But you are haggard under all your red. You 
are not the woman I left in ^65.'^ 

am near two years older than the woman you left, 
and as for paint, there is not a woman over twenty in 
London who uses as little red and white as I do.^^ 

What has become of Fareham to-night Sir John 
asked presently, when Hyacinth had picked up her favorite 
spaniel to nurse and fondle, while Angela had resumed her 
occupation at an embroidery frame, and a reposeful air as 
of a long-established domesticity had fallen upon the scene. 

He is at Chilton. When he is not plotting he rushes 
off to Oxfordshire for the hunting and shooting. He loves 
buglehorns and yelping curs, and huntsmen’s cracked 
voices, far before the company of ladies or the conversa- 
tion of wits.” 

A man was never meant to sit in a velvet chair and 
talk fine. It is all one for a French abbe and a few old 
women in men’s clothing to sit round the room and chop 
logic with a learned spinster like Mademoiselle Scudery ; 
but men must live sub jove, unless they are statesmen or 
clerks. They must have horses and hounds, gun and 
spaniel, hawk or rod. I am glad Fareham loves sport. 
And as for that talk of conspiring, let me not hear it from 
thee, Hyacinth. ’Tis a perilous discourse to but hint at 
treason ; and your husband is a loyal gentleman who loves, 
” and with a wry face — reveres his king.” 

Oh, I was only jesting. But, indeed, a man who so 
disparages the things other people love must needs be a 
rebel at heart. Hid you hear of Monsieur de Malfort 
while you were at Paris ” 


Good-bye, London. 351 

The inquiry was made with that over-acted carelessness 
which betrays hidden pain ; but the soldier’s senses had 
been blunted by the rough and tumble of an adventurer’s 
life, and he was not on the alert for shades of feeling. 

Angela accepted her father’s return, with the new duties 
it imposed upon her, as if it had been a decree of heaven. 
She put aside all consideration of that refuge which would 
have meant so complete a renunciation and farewell. On 
her knees that night, in the midst of fervent prayers, her 
tears streamed fast at the thought that, secure in the 
shelter of her father’s love, in the peaceful solitude of her 
I native valley, she could look to a far-off future when she and 
I Fareham might meet without fear of sin, when no cloud 
‘ of passion should darken his brotherly affection for her ; 
i when his heart, now estranged from holy things, would 
' have returned to the faith of his ancestors, reconciled to 
God and the Church. She could but think of him now as 
1 a fallen angel — a wanderer who had strayed far from the 
only light and the guide of human life, and was thus a 
mark for the tempter. What lesser power than Satan’s 
I could have so turned good to evil ; the friendship of a 
: brother, to the base passion which had made so wide a gulf 
between them ; and which must keep them strangers till 
he was cured of his sin ? Only to diabolical possession 
could she ascribe the change that had come over him since 
those happy days when she had watched the slow dawn of 
health upon his sunken cheeks, when he and she had 
traveled together through the rich autumn woods, along 
the lovely English roads, and when, in the leisure of the 
slow journey, he had poured out his thoughts to her, the 
story of his life, his opinions, expatiating in fraternal con- 
fidence upon the things he loved and the things he hated. 
And at Chilton, she looked back and remembered his 
goodness to her, the pains he had taken in choosing horses 
for her to ride, their long mornings on the river with Hen- 


352 When The World Was Youngef. 

riette, their hawking parties, and in all his kind brotherl}" 
care of her. The change in him had come about by al- 
most imperceptible degrees ; but it had been chiefly marked 
by a fitful temper that had cut her to the quick ; now so 
kind ; now barely civil ; courting her company to-day ; 
to-morrow avoiding her, as if there were contagion in her 
presence. Then, after the meeting at Millbank, there had 
come a coldness so icy, a sarcasm so cutting, that for a long 
time she had thought he hated as much as he despised her. 
She had withered in his contempt. His unkindness had 
overshadowed every hour of her life, and the longing to 
cry out to him, Indeed, sir, your thoughts wrong me. I 
am not the wretch you tliink,'’^ had been almost too much 
for her fortitude. She had felt that she must exculpate 
herself, even though in so doing she should betray her 
sister. And then honor and affection for Hyacinth had 
prevailed ; and she had bent her shoulders to the burden 
of undeserved shame. She had sat silent and abashed in 
his presence, like a guilty creature. 

Sir John Kirkland spent a week at Fareham House, em- 
ployed in choosing a team of horses, suitable alike for the 
road and the plough, looking out, among the coachmakers 
for a second-hand traveling carriage, and eventually buy- 
ing a coach of Lady Fanshawe^s, which had been brought 
from Madrid with the rest of her very extensive goods and 
chattels. 

One need scarce remark that it was not one of the late 
ambassador’s state carriages, his ruby velvet coach, with 
fringes that cost three hundred pounds, or his brocade 
carriage, but a coach that had been used for the everyday 
service of his suite. 

Sir John also bought a little plain silver, in place of 
that flne collection of silver and parcel-gilt which had been 
BO willingly sacrificed to royal necessities ; and though he 
breathed no sigh over past losses, some bitter thoughts 


353 


Good-bye, London. 

may have come across his cheerfulness as he heard of the 
splendor and superabundance of Lady Castlemaine^s plate 
and jewels, or of the ring worth six hundred pounds lately 
presented to a pretty actress. 

In a week he was ready for Buckinghamshire ; and Angela 
had her trunks packed, and had bid good-bye to her Lon- 
don friends, amidst the chatter of Lady Fareham^s visiting 
day, and the clear, bell-like clash of delicate china teacups 
— miniature bowls of egg-shell porcelain, without handles, 
and to be held daintily with the tips of high-bred fingers. 
There was a chorus of courteous bewailing at the notion of 
Mrs. Kirkland^’s departure. 

Sir Ealph Masaroon pretended to be in despair. 

Is it not bad enough to have had the coldest winter 
my youth can remember ? But you must needs take the 
sun from spring. Why the maids of honor will count for 
handsome when you are gone. What’s that Butler 
says ? — 

“ ‘ The twinkling stars begin to muster, 

And glitter with their borrowed luster.’ 

But what’s to become of me without the sun ? I shall 
have no one to side-glass in the ring.” 

Indeed, Sir Ealph, I did not know that you side- 
glassed me ! ” 

What, you have suffered my devotion to pass unper- 
ceived ? when I have broken half a dozen coach windows 
in your service, rattling a glass down with a vehemence 
which would have startled a Venus in marble to turn and 
recognize an adorer. Eound and round the ring I have 
driven for hours, on the chance of a look. Nay, marble is 
not so coy as froward beauty ! And at the queen’s chapel 
have I not knelt at the Mass morning after morning, at the 
risk of being thought a papist, for the sake of seeing you 
at prayers ; and have envied the Eomish dog who handed 

23 


554 When The World Was Younger. 

you the asperior as you went out. And you to be uncon- 
scious all the time ! 

Nay, Tis so much happier for me, Sir Ealph, since you 
have given me a reserve of gratified vanity that will last me 
a year in the country, where I shall see nothing but plough- 
men and bird-boys. 

Look out for the scarecrows in St. John’s field, for the 
odds are you will see me some day disguised as one.” 

Why disguised ? ” asked his friend Mr. Penington, 
who had lately produced a comedy that had been acted 
three times at the Duke’s theater, and once at Court, 
which may be taken as a prosperous run for a new play. 

Lady Sarah Tewkesbury held forth on the pleasures of a 
country life, and lamented that family connections and the 
necessity of standing well with the Court constrained her 
to spend the greater part of her existence in town. 

I am like Milton,” she said. I adore a rural life, to 
hear the cock — 

“ ‘ From his watchtower in the skies, 

When the horse and hound do rise.’ 

Oh, I love buttercups and daisies above all the Paris 
finery in the New Exchange ; and to steep one’s com- 
plexion in May dew, and to sup on a syllabub or a dish of 
frumenty — so cheap, too, while it costs a fortune but to 
scrape along in London.” 

The country is well enough for a month at haymaking, 
to romp with a bevy of London beauties in the meadows 
near Tunbridge Wells, or to dance to a couple of fiddles on 
the common by moonlight,” said Mr. Penington, where- 
upon all agreed that Tunbridge Wells, Epsom, Doncaster, 
and Newmarket were the only country possible to people 
of intellect. 

I would never go further than Epsom, if I had my 
will,” said Sir Ealph ; “ for I see no pleasure in New- 


355 


Good-bye, London. 

market for a man who keeps no running horses, and has 
no more interest in the upshot of a race than he might 
have in a maggot match on his own dining-table, did he 
stake high enough on the result.'’^ 

“ But my sister is not to be buried in Buckinghamshire 
all the year round, explained Hyacinth. I shall fetch 
her here half-a-dozen times in a season ; and her shortest 
visits must be long enough to take the country freshness 
out of her complexion, and save her from becoming a milk- 
maid. 

Gud, to see her freckled ! ” cried Penington. I 
could as soon imagine Helen with a hump. That London 
pallor is the choicest charm in a girl of quality — a refined 
sickliness that appeals to the heart of a man of feeling, an 
^ if-you-donT-lend-me-your-arm-I-shall-swoon ^ sort of air. 
Your country hoyden, with her roses-and-cream complexion 
and open-air manners, is more shocking than Medusa to a 
man of taste. 

The talk drifted to other topics at the mention of Buck- 
ingham, who had but lately been let out of the Tower, 
where he and Lord Dorchester had been committed for 
scuffling and quarreling at the canary conference. 

‘■‘"Has your ladyship seen the Duke and Lord Dor- 
chester since they came out of the house of bondage ? 
asked Lady Sarah. I think Buckingham was never so 
gay and handsome, and takes his imprisonment as the 
best joke that ever was, and is as great at court as 
ever.” 

^^His majesty is but too indulgent,” said Masaroon, 
and encourages the Duke to be insolent and careless of 
ceremony. He had the impertinence to show himcelf at 
chapel before he had waited on his majesty.” 

Who was very angry, and forbade him the Court,” 
said Penington. But Buckingham sent the King one of 
bis foolish; jesting letters^ capped with ^ rhymQ or two ^ 


356 When The World Was Younger. 

and if you can make Charles Stuart laugh you may pick 
his pocket 

Or seduce his mistress 

Oh, he will give much to wit and gayety. He learnt 
the knack of taking life easily while he led that queer, 
shifting life in exile. He was a cosmopolitan and a soldier 
of fortune before he was a king de facto ; and still wears 
the loose garments of those easy, beggarly days, when he 
had neither money nor care. Be sure he regrets that rov- 
ing life — Madrid, Paris, the Hague — and will never love 
a son as well as little Monmouth, the child of his youth. 

‘‘^What would he not give to make that base-born brat 
Prince of Wales ! Strange that while Lord Boss is trying 
to make his offspring illegitimate by Act of Parliament, 
his masters anxieties should all tend the other way.” 

DonT talk to me of Parliament,” cried Lady Sarah, 
the tyranny of the Eump was nothing to them. Look at 
the tax upon Prench wines, which will make it almost 
impossible for a lady of small means to entertain her friends. 
And an act of burying us all in woolen, for the benefit 
of the English trade in wool.” 

But, indeed. Lady Sarah, it is we of the old faith who 
have most need to complain,” said Lady Fareham, since 
these wretches make us pay a double poll-tax ; and all our 
foreign friends are being driven away for the same reason 
— just because the foolish and the ignorant must needs put 
down the fire to the Catholics.” 

Indeed, your ladyship, the papists have had an un- 
lucky knack at lighting fires, as Smithfield and Oxford can 
testify,” said Penington ; ^^and perhaps, having no more 
opportunity of roasting martyrs, it may please some of your 
creed to burn Protestant houses, with the chance of cook- 
ing a few Protestants inside ^em.” 

Angela had drawn away from the little knot of fine ladies 
and finer gentlemen, and was sitting in the bay window of 


357 


Good-bye, London. 

an ante-room, with Henriette and the boy, who were sorely 
dejected at the prospect of losing her. The best consola- 
tion she could offer was to promise that they should be in- 
vited to the Manor Moat as soon as she and her father had 
settled themselves comfortably there — if their mother could 
spare them. 

Henriette laughed outright at this final clause. 

Spare us ! she cried. Does she ever want us ? I 
doiiT think she knows when we are in the room, unless we 
tread upon her gown, when she screams out ^ Little viper ! ^ 
and hits us with her fan.'’^ 

The lightest touch, Papillon ; not so hard as you strike 
your favorite baby.^'’ 

Oh, she doesnT hurt me ; but the disrespect of it ! 
Her only daughter, and nearly as high as she is ! 

^^You are an ungrateful puss to complain, when her 
ladyship is so kind as to let you be here to see all her fine 
company. 

I am sick of her company, almost always the same, 
and always talking about the same things. The king, and 
the duke, and the general, and the navy ; or Lady Castle- 
maine^s jewels, or the last new head from Paris, or her 
ladyship^s Flanders lace. It is all as dull as ditch-water 
now Monsieur de Malfort is gone. He was always pleasant, 
and he let me play on his guitar, though he swore it excru- 
ciated him. And he taught me the new Versailles coranto. 
There’s no pleasure for any one since he fell ill and left 
England.” 

You shall come to the Manor. It will be a change, 
even though you hate the country and love London.” 

I have left off loving London. I have had too much 
of it. If his lordship let us go to the theater often it 
would be different. Oh, how I love Philaster and thai^ 
dear page ! Do you think I could act that character^ 
0,untie, if his lordship’s tailor made me such a dress ? 


358 When The World Was Younger. 

I think thou hast prudence for anything, dearest. 

I would rather act that page than ^ Pauline ^ in ^ Poly- 
eucte/ though mademoiselle says I speak her tirades 
nearly as well as an actress she once saw at the Marais, 
who was too old and fat for the character. How I should 
love to be an actress, and to play tragedy and comedy, and 
make people cry and laugh. Indeed, I would rather be 
anything than a Lady — unless I could be exactly like Lady 
Castlemaine.^^ 

Ah, Heaven forbid ! 

But why not ? I heard Sir Ealph tell mother that let 
her behave as madly as she may, she will always be atop of 
the tree and that the young sparks at the chapel royal 
hardly look at their prayer-books for gazing at her, and 
that the king 

Ah, sweetheart, I want to hear no more of her ! ” 

Why don’t you like her ? I thought you did not 
know her. She never comes here.” 

Are there any staghounds in the Vale of Aylesbury ? ” 
asked the boy, who had been looking out of the window 
watching the boats go by, unheeding his sister’s babble. 

know not, love ; but there shall be dogs enough for 
you to play with. I’ll warrant, and a pony for you to ride. 
Grandfather shall get them for his dearest.” 

Sir J ohn was fond of Henriette, whom he looked upon 
as a marvel of precocious brightness ; but the boy was his 
favorite, whom he loved with an old man’s half -melancholy 
affection for the creature which is to live and act a part in 
the world when he^ the graybeard, shall be dust. 


At The Manor Moat, 


359 


CHAPTER XXII. 

AT THE MAi^OE MOAT. 

Solid, grave, and sober, gray with a quarter of a cent- 
ury^s neglect, the Manor House, in the valley below Brill 
differed in every detail from the historical Chilton Abbey. 
It was a moated manor house, the typical house of the 
typical English squire ; an E-shaped house, with a capa- 
cious roof that lodged all the household servants, and clust- 
ered chimney stacks that accommodated a great company 
of swallows. It had been built in the reign of Henry the 
Seventh, and was about coeval with its distinguished 
neighbor, the house of the Verneys, at Middle Claydon, 
and it had never served any other purpose than to shelter 
Englishmen of good repute in the land. Souvenirs of 
Bosworth field — a pair of huge jack-boots, a two-handed 
sword, and a battered helmet hung over the chimney-piece 
in the low-ceiled hall ; but the end of the civil war was 
but a memory when the Manor House was built. After 
Bosworth a slumberous peace had fallen on the land, 
and in the stillness of this secluded valley, sheltered from 
every bleak wind by surrounding hills and roads ; and in 
these peaceful years the gardens of the Manor Moat had 
grown into a settled beauty that made the chief attraction 
of a country seat which boasted so little of architectural 
dignity, or of expensive fantasy in moulded brick and 
carved stone. Plain, somber, with brick walls and heavy 
stone mullions to lower-browed windows, the Manor House 
stood in th^ mid^t of gardens, such as the modern million^ 


360 When The World Was Younger. 

aire may long for, but which only the gray old gardener ! 
Time can create. 

There was more than a mile of yew hedge, eight feet 
high, and three feet broad, walling in flower garden and 
physic garden, the latter the special care of the house- 
mothers of previous generations, the former a paradise of 
those old flowers which bloom and breathe sweet odors in 
the pages of Shakespere and jeweled the verse of Milton. 
The f ritellary here opened its dusky spotted petals to drink 
the dews of May ; and here, against a wall of darkest green, 
daffodils bloomed unruffled by March winds. 

Verily, a garden of gardens ; but when Angela came 
there in the chill February there were no flowers to welcome 
her, only the long, straight walks between those walls of 
yew, and the dark shining waters of the moat and the fish- 
pond, reflecting the winter sun ; and over all the scene a 
quiet as of the grave. 

A little colony of old servants had been left in the house, 
which had escaped confiscation, albeit the property of a 
notorious Malignant, perhaps chiefly on account of its in- 
significance, the bulk of the estate having been sold by 
Sir John in T4, when the king’s condition was waxing des- 
perate, and money was worth twice its value to those who 
clung to hope, and were ready to sacrifice their last jacobus 
in the royal cause. The poor little property, shrunk to a 
home-farm of ninety acres, a humble homestead, and the 
Manor House may have been thought hardly worth selling ; 
or Sir J ohn’s rights may have been respected out of regard 
for his son-in-law, who on the maternal side had kindred 
in high places under the Commonwealth, a fact of which 
Hyacinth occasionally reminded her husband, telling him 
that he was by hereditary instinct a rebel and a king-slayer. 

The farm had been taken toby Sir John’s steward, a 
man who in politics was of the same easy temper as the 
Vicar of Bray in religion, and who was a staunch Crom- 


At The Manor Moat. 


361 

wellian so long as Oliver or Bichard sat at Whitehall, or 
would have tossed up his cap and cheered for Monk as 
Captain-General of Great Britain had he been called upon 
to till his fields and rear his stock under a military des- 
potism. It mattered little to any man living at ease in a 
fat Buckinghamshire valley what king or commonwealth 
ruled in London so long as there was a ready market at 
Aylesbury or Thame for all the farm could produce, and 
civil war planted neither drake nor culverin on Brill Hill. 

The old servants had vegetated as best they might in the 
red house, their wage of the scantiest ; but to live and die 
within familiar walls was better than to fare through a 
world which had no need of them. The younger members 
of the household had scattered, and found new homes, but 
the gray-haired cook was still in her kitchen ; the old butler 
still wept over his pantry, where a dozen or so of spoons, 
and one battered tankard of Heriot^s make, were all that 
remained of that store of gold and silver which had been 
his pride forty years ago, when Charles was bringing home 
his fair French bride, and old Thames at London was 
alight with fireworks and torches, and alive with music 
and singing, as the city welcomed its young queen, and 
when Reuben Holden was a lad in the pantry, learning to 
polish a salver or a goblet, and sorely hectored by his uncle 
the butler. 

Reuben, and Marjory, the old cook, famous in her day as 
any cordon-bleu, were the sole representatives of the once 
respectable household ; but a couple of stout wenches had 
been hired from the cluster of laborers^ hovels that called 
itself a village, and these had been made to drudge as they 
had never drudged before in the few days of warning which 
prepared Reuben for his master’s return. 

Fires had been lighted in rooms where mould and mil- 
dew had long prevailed, wainscots had been scrubbed and 
polishod till the whole house reeked of bees-wax and tur- 


362 When The World Was Younger. 

pentine, to a degree that almost overpowered those pervad- 
ing odors of damp and dry rot, which can curiously exist 
together. The old furniture had been made as bright as 
faded fabrics and worm-eaten wood could be made by 
labor, and the leaping light of blazing logs, reflected on 
the black oak panneling, gave a transient air of cheerful- 
ness to the spacious dining-parlor where Sir John and his 
daughter took their first meal in the old home. And if to 
Angela^s eye, accustomed to the Italian loftiness of the 
noble mansions on the Thames, the broad oak crossbeams 
seemed coming down upon her head, there was at least 
an air of homely snugness in the low darkly colored room. 

At that first evening there had been much to interest 
and engage her. She had the old house to explore, and 
dim childish memories to recall. Here was the room where 
her mother died, the room in which she herself had first 
seen the light — perhaps not until a month or so after her 
birth, since the seventeenth century baby was not flung 
open-eyed into her birthday sunshine, but was swaddled and 
muffled in a dismal apprenticeship to life. The chamber 
had been hung with blacks'’’ for a twelvemonth, Eeuben 
told her, as he escorted her over the house and unlocked 
the doors of disused rooms. The tall bedstead with its 
red and yellow stamped velvet curtains and carved ebony 
posts looked like an Indian temple. One might expect to 
see Buddha squatting on the embroidered counterpane — 
the work of half a lifetime. When the curtains were 
drawn back, a huge moth flew out of the darkness, and spun 
and wheeled round the room with an awful humming 
noise, and to the superstitious mind might have suggested 
a human soul embodied in this phantasmal grayness, with 
power of sound in such excess of its bulk. 

Sir John never used the room after her ladyship’s 
death,” Reuben explained, though it’s the best bed- 
chamber. He has always slept ip the blue room, which is 


At The Manor Moat. 


363 

at the furthest end of the gallery from the room that has 
been prepared for madam. We call that the garden room, 
and it is mighty pretty in summer. 

In summer ? How far it seemed to summer-time in 
Angela^s thoughts. What a long gulf of nothingness to 
be bridged over ; what a dull level plain to cross ; before 
June and the roses could come round again, bringing with 
them the memory of last summer, and the days she had 
lived under the same roof with Fareham, and the evenings 
when they had sat in the same room, or loitered on the 
terrace, pausing now and then beside an Italian vase of 
gaudy flowers to look at this or that, or to watch the mob 
on the river ; and those rare golden days, like that at 
Sayes Court, which she had spent in some excursion with 
Fareham and Henriette. 

I hope madam likes the chamber we have prepared for 
her ? the old man said, as she stood dreaming. 

Yes, my good friend, it is very comfortable. My 
woman complained of the smoky chimney in her chamber ; 
but no doubt we shall mend that by and by.^^ 

It would be strange if a gentlewoman’s servant didn’t 
find something to grumble about,” said Eeuben ; they 
have ever less work to do than anyone else in the house, 
and ever make more fuss than their mistresses. I’ll settle 
the hussy, with madam’s leave.” 

Nay, pray Mr. Eeuben, no harshness. She is a will- 
ing, kind-hearted girl, and we shall find plenty of work 
for her in this big house where there are so few servants.” 

Oh, there’s work enough for sure, if she’ll do it, and 
is no fine city madam that will scream at sight of a mouse, 
belike.” 

^^She is a girl I had out of Oxfordshire.” 

Oh, if she comes out of Oxfordshire, from his lord- 
ship’s estate, I dare swear she is a good girl. I hate your 
London trash ; and I think the great fire would have been 


364 When The World Was Younger. 

a blessing in disguise if it had swept away most of such 
trumpery. 

Oh, sir, if a Eomanist were to say as much as that,^^ 
said Angela, laughing. 

Oh, madam, I am not one of they fools that say be- 
cause half London was burnt the papishes must have set it 
on fire. What good would the burning of it do "’em, poor 
souls ? And now they are to pay double taxes, as if it was 
a sure thing their fagots kindled the blaze. I know how 
kind and sweet a soul a papish may be, though she do 
worship idols ; for I had the honor to serve your ladyship^s 
mother from the hour she first entered this house till the 
day I smuggled the French priest by the back stairs to 
carry her the holy oils. Ah, she was a noble and a lovely 
lady. Madam^s eyes are of her color ; and, indeed, madam 
favors her mother more than my Lady Fareham does.” 

Have you seen Lady Fareham of late years ?” 

Ay, madam, she came here in her coach and six the 
summer before the pestilence, with her two beautiful 
children, and a party of ladies and gentlemen. They rode 
here from his grace of Buckingham^’s new mansion by the 
Thames. — Cliefden, I think they call it ; and they do say 
his grace do so lavish and squander money in the building 
of it that belike he will be ruined and dead before his 
palace be finished. There were three coaches full with 
servants and what not. And they brought wine, and 
capons ready dressed, and confectionery, and I helped to 
serve a collation for them in the garden. And after they 
had feasted merrily, with a vast quantity of sparkling 
French wine, they all rushed through the house like mad- 
caps, laughing and chattering regular French magpies, for 
there was more of "em French than English, her ladyship 
leading them, till she comes to the door of this room, and 
finds it locked, and she begins to thump upon the panels 
like a spoilt child, and calls, " Keuben, Reuben, what is 


At The Manor Moat* 


3^S 

your mystery ? Sure this must be the ghost chamber. 
Open, open, instantly/ And I answered her quietly, 

Tis the chamber where that sweet angel, your ladyship^’s 
mother, lay in state, and it has never been opened to 
strangers since she died/ And all in the midst of her 
mirth, the dear young lady burst out weeping, and cried, 
^ My sweet, sweet mother!^ she cried, ‘I remember the 
last smile she gave me as if it was yesterday.^ And then 
she dropped on her knees and crossed herself, and whispered 
a prayer, with her face close against the door ; and I knew 
that she was praying for her lady-mother, as the way of 
your religion is, madam, to pray for the dead ; and sure 
though it is a simple thing, it can do harm, and to my 
thinking when all the foolishness is taken out of religion 
the warmth and the comfort seem to go too ; for I know I 
never used to feel a bit more comfortable after a t’wo hours’ 
sermon when I was an Anabaptist.” 

Are you not an Anabaptist now, Eeuben ? ” 

Lord forbid, madam. I have been a member of the 
Church of England ever since his majesty’s restoration 
brought the vicar to his own again, and gave us back 
Christmas Day, and the organ, and the singing-boys.” 

Angela’s life at the Manor was so colorless that the first 
blossoming of a familiar fiower was an event to note and 
to remember. Life within convent walls would have been 
scarcely more tranquil or more monotonous. Sir John 
rode with his hounds three or four times a week, or 
was about the fields superintending the farming opera- 
tions, walking beside the ploughman as he drove his fur- 
row, or watching the scattering of the seed. Or he was 
in the narrow woodlands which still belonged to him, and 
Angela, taking her solitary walk at the close of day, heard 
his axe ringing through the wintry air. 

It was a peaceful, and should have been a pleasant life. 


^66 When The World Was Younger. 

for father and for daughter. Angela told herself that 
God had been very good to her in providing this safe haven 
from tempestuous seas, this quiet little world, where the 
pulses of passion beat not ; where existence was like a 
sleep, a gradual drifting away of days and weeks, marked 
only by the changing note of birds, the deepening umber 
on the birch, the purpling of beech buds, and the starry 
celandine shining out of grassy banks that had so lately 
been obliterated under drifted snow. 

I ought to be happy, she said to herself, of a morn- 
ing, when she rose from her knees, and stood looking across 
the garden to the grassy hills beyond while the beads of 
her rosary slipped through her languid fingers — I ought 
to be happy.” 

And then she turned from the sunny window with a 
sigh, and went down the dark echoing staircase to the 
breakfast parlor, where her own little silver chocolate- 
pot looked ridiculously small beside Sir John^s quart tan- 
kard, and where the crispy golden rolls, baked in the 
French fashion by the maid from Chilton, who had been 
taught by Lord Fareham^s chef, contrasted with the chine 
of beef, and huge farmhouse loaf that accompanied the old 
October. 

After all his continental wanderings. Sir John had come 
back to substantial English fare with an unabated relish ; 
and Angela had to sit down day after day to a huge joint and 
an overloaded dish of poultry, and to reassure her father 
when he expressed uneasiness because she ate so little. 

Women do not want much food, sir. Martha's rolls, 
and our honey, and the conserves old Marjory makes so well 
are better for me than the meat which suits your heartier 
appetite.” 

""Faith, child, if I played no stouter a part at table than 
you do, I should soon be fit to play living skeleton at Ayles- 
bury Fair. And I dubitate as to your diet, loaves and 


At The Manor Moat. 


367 

confectionery, suiting you better than a slice of chine or a 
sirloin, for you have a pale cheek and a pensive eye, that 
smite me to the heart. Indeed, I begin to question if I 
was kind to take you from all the pleasures of the town, to 
be mewed up here with a rusty old soldier.” 

Indeed, sir, I could be happier nowhere than here. I 
have had enough of London pleasures, and I was meditat- 
ing upon returning to the convent when you came, and 
put an end to all my perplexities ; and, sir, I think God 
sent you to me when I most needed a father^s love.” 

She went to him, and knelt by his chair, hiding her tear- 
ful eyes against the cushioned arm. But though he could 
not see her face, he heard the break in her voice, and he 
bent down and lifted her drooping head to his breast and 
kissed the soft brown hair, and embraced her very tenderly. 

Sweetheart, thou hast all a fatlier^s love, and it is 
happiness to me to have thee here ; but old as I am, and 
with so little cunning to read a maiden^s heart, I can read 
clear enough to know thou art not happy. Whisper, 
dearest. Is it a sweetheart who sighs for thy favors far off, 
and will not beard this old lion in his den ? My gentle 
Angela would make no ill choice. Fear not to trust me, 
my heart. I will love whom you love, favor whom you 
favor. I am no tyrant, that my sweet daughter should grow 
pale with keeping secrets from me. 

Dear father, you are all goodness. No, there is no 
one — no one ! I am happy with you. I have no one in 
the world but you, and in a so much lesser degree of love 

my sister and her children 

And Fareham. He should be to you as a brother. He 
is of a black melancholic humor, and not a man whom 
women love : but he has a heart of gold, and must regard 
you with grateful affection for your goodness to him when 
he was sick. Hyacinth is never weary of expatiating upon 
your devotion in that perilous time.” 


368 When The World Was Younger. 

She is foolish to talk of services I would have given as 
willingly to a sick beggar/^ Angela answered, impatiently. 

Her face was still hidden against her father’s breast ; 
but she lifted her head presently, and the pale calmness of 
her countenance reassured him. 

Well, it is uncommon strange,” he said, ^‘^if one so fair 
has no sweetheart among all the sparks of Whitehall,” 
^^Lord Fareham hates Whitehall. We have only at- 
tended there at great festivals, when my sister’s absence 
would have been a slight upon her Majesty and the 
Duchess.” 

But my star, though seldom shining there, should have 
drawn some satellites to her orbit. You see, dearest, I 
can catch the note of court flattery. Nay, I will press no 
questions. My girl shall choose her own partner ; provided 
the man is honest and a loyal servant of the king, her old 
father shall set no obstacle in the high-road to her happi- 
ness. What right has one who is almost a pauper to stipu- 
late for a wealthy son-in-law ? ” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

PATIEKT NOT PASSIONATE. 

The quiet days went on, and the old Cavalier settled 
down into a tranquil happiness which comforted his 
daughter with the feeling of duty prosperously fulfilled. 
To make this dear old man happy, to be his companion 
and friend, to share in his rides and rambles, and of an 
evening to play the games he loved, on the old shovel-board 
in the hall, or an old-fashioned game at cards, or back- 
gammon, beside the fire in the paneled parlor, reconciled 


Patient Not Passionate. 369 

her to the melancholy of an existence from which hope had 
vanished like a light extinguished. It seemed to her as if 
she had dropped back into the old life with her great aunt. 
The Manor House was just a little gayer than the Flemish 
convent — for the voices and footsteps of the few inhabitants 
had a freer sound, which made the few seem more populous 
than the many. And then there were the dogs. What 
a powerful factor in home life those four-footed friends 
were ! Out of doors a stone barn had been turned into a 
kennel for five couple of foxhounds ; indoors a couple of 
setters, sent by a friend over sea from Waterford — had in- 
sinuated themselves into the parlor, where they established 
themselves as household favorites, to the damage of those 
higher hereditary qualities which fitted them for distinction 
with the guns. Indeed, the old knight was too fond of 
his fireside companions to care very much if he missed a 
bird now and then because Catiline was overfed or Ca3sar 
disobedient. They stood sentinel on each side of his chair 
at dinner, like supporters to a coat-of-arms. Angela had 
her own particular favorite in a King Charles spaniel. It 
was the very dog which had first greeted her in the silence 
of the plague-stricken house. She had chosen this one from 
the canine troupe when her sister offered her the gift of a 
dog at parting, though Hyacinth had urged her to take 
something younger than this, which was over five years old. 

He will die just when you love him best,^^ she said. 

^^Nay ; but such partings must come. I love this one 
because he was with me in fear and sadness. He used to 
cling to me, and look up and lick my face as if he were 
telling me to hope, when my brother seemed marked for 
death. 

‘^Poor Fareham ! Did you desire every dog in the 
}iouse — and my spaniels are of the same breed as the king\ 
and worth fifty pounds a piece — you have a right to take 
them. But, indeed, I would rather you choose a younger 


370 When The World Was Youngei'. 

dog — and with a shorter nose ; but of course, if you like 
this one best ” 

Angela held by her first choice, and Ganymede was the 
companion of all her hours, walked and lived with her, and 
slept on a satin cushion at the foot of her spacious four- 
post bed, and fretted and whined if she left him shut in 
an empty room for half-an hour : yet with all his refine- 
ments and his air of being as dainty a gentleman as any 
spark of quality, he had a gross passion for the kitchen, 
and after nibbling sweet cakes delicately out of his mistresses 
taper fingers, he would rush through a labyrinth of passages, 
and find his way to the hog-tub, and there to wallow in 
slush and broken victuals, till he had all but drowned him- 
self in a flood of pot-liquor. It was hard to reconcile so 
much beauty and grace, such eloquent eyes and satin coat, 
with tastes and desires so vulgar ; and Angela sighed over 
him when a scullion brought him to her, greasy and peni- 
tent to crouch at her feet, and deprecate her wrath with 
an abject tail. 

Oh, tranquil duteous life, how fair it might have seemed, 
as spring advanced, and the garden smiled with the prom- 
ise of summer ; were it not for that aching sense of loss, 
the some one missing, whose absence made all things gray 
and cold ! 

Yes, she knew now, fully realizing as she had never done 
before, how long and how utterly her life had been in- 
fluenced by an affection which even to contemplate was 
mortal sin. Yet to extinguish memory was not within her 
power. She looked back and remembered how his pro- 
tecting love had enfolded her with its gentle warmth, in 
those happy days at Chilton ; how all she knew of books 
and of ethics and philosophy, had been learnt from him. 
She recalled his evident delight in opening the rich treasures 
of a mind which he had never ceased to cultivate, even 
amidst the vicissitudes of a soldier^s life, in making her 


Patient Not Passionate. 


371 


familiar with the writers he loved, and teaching her to esti- 
mate and discuss them. And in all their talk together he 
had been for the most part careful to avoid disparagement 
of the religion in which she believed — so that it was only 
some chance revelation of the infidePs narrow outlook that 
reminded her of his unbelief. 

There is a passage in Cowley^s Complaint,'’^ which 
often recurred to her amidst her thoughts of Fareham — 

“ When my new mind had no infusion known, 

Thou gav’st so deep a tincture of thine own, 

That ever since I vainly try. 

To wash away th’ inherent dye.” 

She remembered their rides together in the misty autumn 
air, and his tender carefulness, in any possibility of danger ; 
how once when she was riding one of his hunters, and a 
laborer jumping up suddenly from a bank by the road- 
side, had startled the animal, and made him rear higher 
than ever horse had reared with her before, Fareham^s 
face had whitened with a greater fear than hers, novice in 
horsemanship though she was. 

Yes, his love had been round her like an atmosphere, 
and she had been exquisitely happy while that unquestion- 
ing affection was hers. On her part there had been neither 
doubt nor fear. It seemed the most natural thing in the 
world that he should be fond of her and she of him. 
Affinity had made them brother and sister ; and then they 
had been together in sickness and in peril of death. It might 
he true, as he himself had affirmed, that her so happy arrival 
had saved his life ; since just those hours between the depart- 
ure of his attendants and the physician's evening visit may 
have been the crisis of his disease. He was not handsome. 
He had perhaps little charm of manner as compared with 
the modern standard in which the subtleties of the Italian 
courtier were enlivened by the airy graces of the Parisian. 


3/2 When The World Was Younger. 

But how far more moving than those flowery compliments 
and empty gallantries offered to her in London had been 
one kind look from under those dark brooding brows, or 
the flash of a sudden smile illuminating a countenance 
habitually severe. 

Well, it was past — the exquisite bliss, the unconscious 
sin, the confidence, the danger. All had vanished into 
the grave of irrecoverable days. 

She had heard nothing from Denzil since she left London, 
nor had she acknowledged his letter. Her silence had 
doubtless angered him, and all was at an end between them 
and this was what he wished. Hyacinth and her children 
were at Chilton, v/hence came letters of complaining against 
the dullness of the country, where his lordship hunted four 
times a week, and spent all the rest of his time in his 
library, appearing only “at our stupid heavy meals ; and 
that not always, since on his hunting days he is far afield 
when I have to sit down to the intolerable two o^clock din- 
ner, and make a pretence of eating — as if anybody with 
more intellectuals than a sheep could dine ; or as if appe- 
tite came by staring at green fields ! You remember how 
in London supper was the only meal I ever cared for. 
There is some grace in a repast that comes after conversa- 
tion and music, or the theater, or a round of visits — a table 
dazzling with lights, and men and women ready to amuse, 
and be amused. But to sit down in broad da 3 'light, when 
one has scarce swallowed one^s morning chocolate, and 
face a sweltering sirloin, or open a smoking veal pie ! 
Indeed, dearest, our whole method of feeding smacks of a 
vulgar brutishness, more appropriate to a company of 
Topinambous than persons of quality. .Why, oh, why 
must these reeking hetacombs load our tables ; when they 
might as easily be kept out of sight upon a buffet ? The 
spectacle of huge mountains of meat, the steam and 
odor of rank boiled and roast under one’s very nostrils^ 


Patient Not Passionate. 


373 

change appetite to nausea, and would induce a delicate 
person to rise in disgust and fly from the dining-room. 
Mais, je ne fais que divagner ; and almost forget what it 
was I was so earnest to tell thee when I began my letter. 

Sir Denzil Warner has been over here, his ostensible 
motive a civil inquiry after my health ; but I could see 
that his actual purpose was to hear of you. I told him 
how happy your simple soul has accommodated itself to an 
almost conventual seclusion, and a very inferior style of 
living — whereupon he smiled his rapture, and praised you 
to the skies. ‘'Would that she could accommodate her- 
self to my house as easily,^ he said; ‘she should have 
every indulgence that an adoring husband could yield her. 
And then he said much more, but as lovers always sing 
the same repetitive song, and have no more strings to 
their lyre than the ancients had before Arion, I confess to 
not listening over carefully, and will leave you to imagine 
the eloquence of a manly and honorable love. Ah, sweet- 
heart ! you do wrong to reject him. Thou hast a quiet 
soothing prettiness of thine own, but art no blazing star 
of beauty, like the Stewart, to bring a king to thy feet — he 
would have married her if poor Catherine had not disap- 
pointed him by her recovery, and to take a duke as pis aller. 
Believe me, love, it were wise of you to become Lady 
Warner, with a flne unmortgaged estate, and a husband 
who, in these Kepublican times, may rise to distinction. 
He is your only earnest admirer ; and a love so steadfast, 
backed by a fortune so respectable, should not be discarded 
lightly.’^ 

Over all these latter passages in her sister^s letter, 
Angela^s eye ran with a scornful carelessness. Her wom- 
anly pride revolted at such petty schooling — that she should 
be bidden to accept this young man gratefully because he 
was her only suitor. No one else had ever cared for her 
pale insignificance. She looked at her clouded image in 


374 When The World Was Younger. 

the oblong glass that hung on the panel above her secre- 
taire, and whose reflections made any idea of her own looks 
rather speculative than precise. It showed her a thoughtful 
face, too pale for beauty ; yet she could but note the har- 
mony of lines which recalled the Venetian type familiar to 
her eye in the Titians and Tintorets at Fareham House. 

I doubt I am good-looking enough for any one to be 
satisfied with the outward semblance who valued the soul 
within,^^ she thought as she turned from the glass with a 
mournful sigh. 

It was not of Denzil she was thinking, but of that other, 
who in slow contemplative days in the library where he 
had taught her what books she ought to love, and where 
she might never more enter, must naturally sometimes re- 
member her, and cast one backward thought to the hours 
they had spent together. 

Hyacinth's letter of matronly counsel was but a week 
old when Sir John surprised his daughter one morning, as 
they sat at table, by the announcement of a visitor to 
stay in the house. 

You will order the west room to be got ready, Angela, 
and bid Marjory Cook serve us some of her savoriest 
dishes while Sir Denzil stays here." 

Sir Denzil ! " 

Yes, ma mie. Sir Denzil ! Ventregris, the girl stares 
as if I had said Sir Bevis of Southampton, or Sir Gruy of 
Warwick. I knew this young gentleman's father before 
the troubles — an honest man though he took the wrong 
side. He paid for his perversity with his life ; so we'll say 
requiescat. The young man is a fine young man, whom I 
would fain have something nearer to me than he is. So 
at a hint from your sister I have asked him to bring his 
fishing tackle and whip our streams for a May trout or two. 
He may catch a finer fish than a trout, perhaps while he is 
a fishing, if you will be his guide .through the meadows/ 


Patient Not Passionate. 


375 


Father, how could you 

Ah, youhe a sly one, fair mistress. Who was it told 
me there was no one ? No one, dear father, and indeed, 
sir, I was thinking of the convent when you came to Lon- 
i don,^ while here was as handsome a spark as one would 
I meet in a day^s march, sighing and dying for you.^^ 

; Father, I do protest to you she began, with a 

I pale distressed look that vouched for her earnestness, hut 
the knight had his face in the tankard, and set it down 
only to pursue his own train of thought. 

^^If it had not been for that little bird at Chilton you 
might have hoodwinked me as blind as ever gerfalcon was 
I hooded. Well, the young man will be here before evening, 
i I would not force your inclinations, but it is the dearest 
; desire of my heart to see you happily married before I die. 

* And a man of honor, handsome and of handsomest fortune, 
is not to be slighted.'’^ 

Angela's spirit rose against this recurrence of her sister's 
sermon. 

; If Sir Denzil is coming to this house as my suitor, I 
will go to Louvain without an hour's delay that I can help." 
she said resolutely. 

Why, what a vixen ! Nay, dearest, there is no need 
for that angry flush. The young man is too courteous to 
plague you with unwelcome civilities. I saw him in Lon- 
don at the tennis court, and was friendly to him for his 
father's memory, knowing nothing of his desire to be my 
son-in-law. He is a fine player at that royal game, and a 
fine man. He comes here this evening as my friend and if 
you please to treat him disdainfully, I cannot help it. But, 
indeed, I wonder as much as your sister why you should 
not reciprocate this gentleman's love." 

When you were young, father, did you love the first 
comer ; only because she was handsome and civil ? " 

No, child ; I had seen many handsome women before 


3/6 When The World Was Younger. 

I met your mother. She came ' over in ^35 with the mar- 
quise, who had been lady of honor to Queen Marie before 
the Princess Henriette married our king, and the Queen 
Henriette was fond of her and invited her to come to Lon- 
don, and she divided her life between the two countries 
till the troubles, when she was one of the first to scamper 
off, as you know. My wife was little more than a child 
when I saw her at court hiding behind her mother’s large 
sleeves. I had seen handsomer women ; but she was the 
first whose face went straight to my heart, and it has dwelt 
there ever since,’’ he concluded, with a sudden break in 
his voice. 

^‘^Then you can comprehend, dear sir, that a man may 
be honorable and courteous, and handsome, and yet not win 
a woman’s love.” 

Ah, it is not the man ; it is love that should win, sweet- 
heart. Love is worthy of love. When that is true coin it 
should buy its reward. Indeed I have rarely seen it other- 
wise. Love begets love. Louise dela Valliere is not the 
handsomest woman at the Trench court. Her complexion 
has suffered from smallpox, and she has a defective gait ; 
but the king discovered so fond and romantic attachment 
to his person, a love ashamed of loving, the very poetry of 
affection ; and that discovery made him her slave. The 
court beauties — sultanas splendid as Vashti — look on in 
angry wonder. Louise is adored because she began by 
adoring. Mind, I do not praise or excuse her, for ’tis a 
mortal sin to love a married man, and steal him from his 
wife. Toolish child, how your cheek crimsons ! I do 
wrong to shock your innocence with my babble of king’s 
mistresses.” 

Denzil arrived at sunset, on horseback, with a mounted 
servant in attendance, carrying his saddlebags and fish- 
ing tackle. It was but a short day’s ride from Oxford. 
Tareham’s rides with the hounds must have brought him 


Patient Not Passionate. 


377 


sometimes within a few miles of the Manor Moat. Hya- 
cinth and her children might have ridden over in their 
coach ; and indeed she had promised her sister a visit in 
more than one of her letters hut there had been always 
something to postpone the expedition — company at home, 
or had weather, or a fit of the vapors — so that the sisters 
had been as much asunder as if the elder had been in 
Yorkshire or Northumberland. 

Denzil brought news of the household at Chilton. 
Lady Fareham was as charming as ever, and though 
she had complained very often of bad health, she had been 
so lively and active whenever the whim took her, riding 
with hawk and hound, visiting about the neighborhood, 
driving into Oxford, that Denzil was of opinion her ail- 
ments were of the spirits oiily, a kind of rustic malady to 
which most fine ladies were subject, the nostalgia of pav- 
ing-stones and oil lamps. Henriette — she now insisted 
upon discarding her nickname — was less volatile than in 
London, and missed her aunt sorely, and quarreled with 
mademoiselle, who was painfully strict upon all points of 
speech and manners. Little G-eorgie^s days of unalloyed 
idleness were also ended, for the Eoman Catholic priest 
was now a resident in the house as his tutor, besides teach- 
i ing Henriette the rudiments, and instructing her in her 
mo therms religion. 

Denzil told them even of the guests he had met at the 
Abbey, but of the master of the house his lips spoke not, 

: till Sir John questioned him. 

And Fareham ? Has he that same air of not belong- 
i ing to the family which I remarked of him in London ? "" 

His lordship has ever an air of being aloof from every- 
body.” Denzil answered, gravely. He is solitary even in 
his sports and his indoor life is mostly buried in a book.” 

Ah, those books, they will be the ruin of nations ! As 
books multiply, great actions will grow less. Life’s golden 


378 When The World Was Younger. 

hours will be wasted in dreaming over the fancies of dead 
men ; and the world will be over-full of brooding philos- 
ophers like Descartes, or pamphleteers like your friend 
Mr. Milton.” 

Nay, sir, the world is richer for such a man as John 
Milton, who has composed the grandest poem in our lan- 
guage — an epic on a scale and subject as sublime as the 
Divine Comedy of Dante.” 

I never saw Mr. Dante^s comedy acted, and confess my- 
self ignorant of its merits.” 

Comedy, sir, with Dante, is but a name. The Italian 
poem is an epic and not a play. Mr. Milton^s poem will 
be given to the world shortly, though, alas, he will reap 
little substantial reward for the intellectual labor of 
years. Poetry is not a marketable commodity in England, 
unless it take the vulgarer form of a stage-play. But this 
poem of Mr. Milton^s has been the solace of his darkened 
life. You have heard, perhaps, of his blindness ?” 

Yes, he had to forego his office as Latin Secretary to 
that villain. To my mind the decay of sight was a judg- 
ment upon him for having written against his murdered 
king, even to denial of his majesty’s own account of his 
sufferings. But I confess that even if the man had been a 
loyal subject, I have little admiration for that class, scrib- 
blers and pamphleteers, brooders over books, crouchers in 
the chimney-corner, who have never trailed a pike or slept 
under the open sky. And seeing this vast increase of 
book-learning and the arising of such men as Hobbes — to 
question our religion, and Milton to assail monarchy — I can 
but believe those who say that this old England has taken 
the downward bent ; that as we are dwindling in stature 
so we are decaying in courage and capacity for action.” 

Denzil listened respectfully to the old man’s disquisitions 
over his morning drink ; while Eeuben stood at the side- 
board carving a ham or a round of powdered beef ; and 


Patient Not Passionate. 


379 

I Angela sipped her chocolate out of the pretty porcelain 
cup which Hyacinth had bought for her'atthe Middle Ex- 
change, where curiosities from China and the last inven- 
tions from Paris were always to he had before they were 
seen anywhere els^. Nothing could be more reverential 
than the young man^s bearing to his host, while his quiet 
friendliness set Angela at her ease and made her think 
he had abandoned his suit, and henceforward aspired only 
to such a tranquil friendship as they had enjoyed at Chih 
ton before any word of love had been spoken. 

Apart from the question of love and marriage, his presv 
ence was in no manner displeasing to her ; indeed, the 
long days in that sequestered valley lost something of their 
gray monotony now that she had a companion in all her 
intellectual occupations. Fondly as she loved her father, 
she had not been able to hide from herself the narrowness 
' of his education and the blind prejudice which governed 
I his ideas upon almost every subject, from politics to natural 
j history. Of the books which make the greater part of a 
solitary life she could never talk to him ; and it was here 
! that she had so sorely missed the counselor and friend who 
i' had taught her to love and to comprehend the great poets of 
I the past — Homer and Virgil, Dante and Tasso, and the deep 
melancholy humor of Cervantes, and, most of all, the inex- 
haustible riches of the Elizabethans. 

Denzil was of a temper as thoughtful, but his studies 
had taken a different direction. He was not even by taste 
or apprehension a poet. Had he been called upon to criti- 
cise his tutor's compositions, he might, like Johnson, have 
objected to the metaphoric turns of Lycidas, and have 
missed the melody of lines as musical as the nightingale. 
In that great poem of which he had been privileged to 
transcribe many of the finest passages from the lips of the 
poet, he admired rather the heroic patience of the blind 
author than the splendor of the verse. He was more im- 


380 When The World Was Younger. 

pressed by the schoolmaster's learning than by that God- 
given genius which lifted that one Englishman above every 
other of his age and country. No, he was eminently 
prosaic, had sucked prose and plain-thinking from his 
mothers breast ; but he was not the less an agreeable com- 
panion for a girl upon whose youth an unnatural solitude 
had begun to weigh heavily. 

All that one mind can impart to another of a widely 
different fiber, Denzil had learnt from Milton in that most 
impressionable period of boyhood which he had spent in 
the small house in Holborn, whose back rooms looked out 
over the verdant spaces of Lincoln's Inn Fields, where 
Lord Newcastle's palace had not yet begun to rise 
from its foundations, and where the singing birds had not 
been scared away by the growth of the town. A theater 
now stood where the boy and a fellow-scholar had played 
trap and ball, and the stately houses of Queen Street hard 
by were alive with rank and fashion. 

In addition to the classical curriculum which Milton had 
taught with the solemn earnestness of one in wEom learn- 
ing is a religion, Denzil had acquired a store of miscella- 
neous knowledge from the great Eepublican ; and most 
interesting among these casual instructions had been the 
close acquaintance with nature gained in the course of 
many a rustic ramble in the country lanes beyond Gray's 
Inn, or sauntering eastward along the banks of the limpid 
Lea, or by Sir Hugh Middleton's river. Mixed with plain 
facts about plant or flower, animal or insect, Milton's 
memory was stored with the quaint absurdities of the her- 
metic philosophy, that curious mixture of deep-reaching 
theories and old women's superstitions, the experience of 
the peasant transmuted by the imagination of the adept. 
Sound and practical as the poet had ever shown himself — 
save where passion got the upper hand of common sense, 
as in his advocacy of divorce — he was yet not entirely free 


Patient Not Passionate. 


381 


from a leaning to Baconian superstitions, and may, with 
Gesner, have believed that the pickerel weed could engen- 
der pike, and that frogs could turn to slime in winter, and 
become frogs again in spring. Whatever rags of old-world 
fatuity may have lingered in that strong brain, he had 
been not the less a delightful teacher, and had imparted 
an ardent love of nature to his little family of pupils in 
that peripatetic school between hawthorn hedges or in the 
open fields kissed by the smiling Lea. 

And now in quiet rambles with Angela, in the midst of 
landscape transfigured by that vernal beauty which begins 
with the waning of April, and is past and vanished before 
the end of May, Denzil loved to expound the wonders of 
the infinitesimal, the insect life that sparkled and hummed 
in the balmy air, or hashed like living light amongst the 
dewy grasses, the life of plant and fiower, which seemed 
almost as personal and conscious a form of existence, since 
it was difficult to believe there was no sense of struggle or 
of joy in those rapid growths which shot out from a tangle 
of dark undergrowth upward to the sunlight, no fondness 
in the wild vines that clung so close to some patriarchal 
trunk, covering decay with the beautiful exuberance of 
youth. Denzil taught her to realize the wonders of crea- 
tion — most wonderful when most minute — for beyond the 
picturesque and lovely in nature, he showed her those 
marvels of order, and law, and adaptation which speak to 
the naturalist with a stronger language than beauty. 

There was a tranquil pleasure in these rustic walks, which 
beguiled her into forgetfulness that this man had ever 
sought to be more to her than he was now — a respectful, 
unobtrusive friend. Of London, and the tumultuous life 
going on there, he had scarcely spoken, save to tell her 
that he meant to stand for Henley at the next Parliament ; 
nor had he alluded to the past at Chilton ; nor ever of his 
own accord had he spoken Lord Fareham^s name ; indeed. 


382 When The World Was Younger. 

that name was ever studiously avoided by them both ; and 
if Denzil had never before suspected Angela of an unhappy 
preference for one whom she could not love without sin, 
he might have had some cause for such suspicion in the 
eagerness with which she changed the drift of the conver- 
sation whenever it approached that forbidden subject. 

From this puritanical bringing up, the theory of self- 
surrender and deprivation ever kept before him, Denzil 
had assuredly learnt to possess his soul in patience ; and 
throughout all that smiling month of May, while he whip- 
ped the capricious streams that wound about the valley, 
with Angela for the willing companion of his saunterings 
from pool to pool, he never once alarmed her by any hint 
of a warmer feeling than friendship ; indeed, he thought 
of himself sometimes as one who lived in an enchanted 
world, where to utter a certain fatal word would be to 
break the spell ; and whatever momentary impulse or pas- 
sionate longing, engendered by a look, a smile, the light 
touch of a hand, the mere sense of proximity, might move 
him to speak of his love, he had sufficient self-command 
to keep the fatal words unspoken. He meant to wait till 
the last hour of his visit. Only when separation was im- 
minent would he plead his cause again. Thus at the worst 
he would have lost no happy hours of her company. And, 
in the meantime, since she was always kind, and seemed 
to grow daily more familiar and at ease in his society, he 
dared hope that affection for him and forgetfulness of 
that other were growing side by side in her mind. 

In this companionship Angela learnt many of the secrets 
and subtleties of the angler^s craft, as acquired by her 
teacheFs personal experience, or expounded in that de- 
lightful book, then less than twenty years old, which has 
ever been the angler’s gospel. Often after following the 
meandering water till a gentle weariness invited them to 
rest, Angela and Denzil seated themselves on a sheltered 


Patient Not Passionate. 


383 

bank and read their Isaac Walton together, both ont of the 
same volume, he pleased to point out his favorite passages 
and to watch her smile as she read. 

Before May was ended, she knew old Isaac almost as 
well as Denzil, and had learnt to throw a fly, and to choose 
the likeliest spot and the happiest hour of the day for a 
good trout ; had learnt to watch the cloud and cloud- 
shadows with an angler^'s keen interest ; and had amused 
herself with the manufacture of an artificial minnow, upon 
Walton^s recipe, devoting careful labor and all the re- 
sources of her embroidery basket — silks and silver threads — 
to perfecting the delicate model, which, when completed, 
she presented smilingly to Denzil, who was strangely moved 
by so childish a toy, and had some difficulty in suppressing 
his emotion as he held the glistening silken fish in his 
hands, and thought how her tapering fingers had caressed 
it, and how much of her very self seemed, as he watched 
her, to have been enwrought with the fabric. So poor, so 
trivial a thing ; but her first gift ! If she had tossed him 
a flower, plucked that moment, he would have treasured it 
all his life ; but this, which had cost her so much careful 
work, was far more than any casual blossom. Something 
of the magnetism of her mind had passed into the silvery 
thread drawn so daintily through her rosy fingers — some- 
thing of the soft light in her eyes had mixed with the 
blended colors of the silk. Foolish fancies these, but in 
the gravest maffis love there is a touch of folly. 

Sometimes they rode with Sir John, and in this way ex- 
plored the neighborhood, which was rich in historical as- 
sociations — some of the remote past, as when King J ohn 
kept Christmas at Brill ; but chiefly of those troubled 
times through which Sir John Kirkland had lived, an ac- 
tive participator in that deadly drama. He showed them 
the site of the garrison at Brill, and trod every foot of 
the earthworks to demonstrate how the hill had been forth 


When The World Was Younger. 


384 

fied. He had commanded in the defence against Hamp- 
den and his greencoats — that regiment of foot raised in his 
pastoral shire, whose standard bore on one side the watch- 
word of the Parliament, God with ns,^^ and on the other 
Hampden^s own device, ^Westigia nulla retrorsum."’^ 

was a legend to frighten some of us, who had no 
Latin,” said Sir John, ‘^^but we put his bumpkin 
greencoats to the rout, and trampled that insolent flag in 
the mire.” 

All was peaceful now in the hamlet on the hill. Women 
and children were sitting upon sunny doorsteps, with their 
pillows on their knees and their bobbins moving quickly 
in dexterous fingers, busy at the lace-making which had 
been established in Buckinghamshire more than a century 
before by Catherine of Aragon, whose dowry was derived 
from the revenues of Steeple Clay don. The curate had re- 
turned to the gray old church, and rural life pursued its slum- 
berous course scarce ruffled by rumors of maritime war, or 
plague, or fire. They rode to Thame — a stage on the Jour- 
ney to Oxford, Angela thought, as she noted the figures on 
a milestone, and at a flash her memory recalled that scene 
in the garden by the river, when Fareham had spoken for 
the first time of his inner life, and she had seen the man 
behind the mask. She thought of her sister, so fair, so 
sweet, charming in her capriciousness even, yet not the 
woman to fill that unquiet heart, or satisfy that somber and 
earnest nature. It was not by many words that Fareham 
had revealed himself. Her knowledge of his character and 
feelings went deeper than the knowledge that words can 
impart. It came from that constant unconscious study 
which a romantic girl devotes to the character of the man 
who first awakens her interest. 

Angela was grave and silent throughout the ride to 
Thame and the return home, riding for the most part in 
the rear of the two men, leaving Denzil to devote all his 


Patient Not Passionate. 


3B5 

attention to Sir John, who has somewhat loquacious that' 
afternoon, stimulated by the many memories of the troubled 
time which the road awakened. Denzil listened respect- 
fully, and went never astray in his answers, but he looked 
back very often to the solitary rider who kept at some dis- 
tance to avoid the dust. 

Sometimes in the early morning they all went with the 
otter hounds, the knight on horseback, Denzil and Angela 
on foot, and spent two or three very active hours before 
breakfast in rousing the otter from his hole and following 
every flash of his bead upon the stream, with that brisk- 
ness and active enjoyment which seems a part of the clear 
morning atmosphere, the inspiring breath of dewy flelds 
and flowers unfaded by the sun. All that there was of 
girlishness in Angela^s spirits was awakened by those merry 
morning scampers by the margin of the stream, which had 
often to be forded by the runners with but little heed of 
wet feet or splashed petticoat. The parson and his daugh- 
ters from the village of St. Nicholas joined in the sport, and 
were invited to the morning drink and substantial break- 
fast afterwards, where the young ladies were lost in admira- 
tion of Angela^s silver chocolate pot and porcelain cups, 
while their clerical father owned to a distaste for all morn- 
ing drinks except such as owed their flavor and strength to 
malt and hops. 

If you had lived among green fields and damp marshes 
as long as I have, miss, you would know what poor stuff 
your chocolate is to fortify a man^s bones against ague and 
rheumatism. I am told the Spaniards brought it from 
Mexico, where the natives eat nothing else, from which 
comes the copper color of their skins. 

DenziPs visit lasted over a month, during which time he 
rode into Oxfordshire twice to see Lady Warner, stopping 
a night each time lest that worthy person should fancy 
herself neglected. 

25 


386 When The World Was Younger. 

Sir John derived the utmost pleasure from the young 
man^s company, who bore himself towards his host with a 
respectful courtesy that had gone out of fashion after the 
murder of the king, and was rarely met with in an age 
where elderly men were generally spoken of as old 
puts,” and considered proper subjects for bubbling.” 

To Denzil the old campaigner opened his heart more 
freely than he had ever done to anyone except a brother-in- 
arms ; and although he was resolute in upholding the 
cause of monarchy against republicanism, he owned to the 
natural disappointment which he had felt at the king^s 
neglect of old friends, and reluctantly admitted that 
Charles, sauntering along Pall Mall with ruin at his heels 
and the wickedest men and women in England for his 
chosen companions, was not a monarch to maintain and 
strengthen the public idea of the divinity that doth hedge 
a king. 

Of all the lessons danger and adversity can teach he 
has learnt but one,” said Sir John, with a regretful sigh. 
^^He has learnt the Horatian philosophy to snatch the 
pleasures of the day, and care nothing what may happen 
on the morrow. I do not wonder that predictions of a 
sudden end to this globe of ours should have been bruited 
about of late ; for if lust and profaneness could draw down 
fire from heaven, London would be in as perilous a case as 
Gomorrah. But I doubt such particular judgments be- 
longed but to the infancy of this world, when men believed 
in a personal God, interested in all their concerns, watch- 
ful to bless or to punish. We have now but the God of 
Spinoza — a God who is all things and everywhere about us, 
of whom this creation in which we move is but the gar- 
ment — a Universal Essence which should govern and in- 
form all we are and all we do ; but not the Judge and 
Eather of His people, to be reached by prayer and touched 
by pity.” 


Patient Not Passionate. 


387 


All, sir, our life here and hereafter is encompassed 
with mystery. To ' think is to he lost on the trackless 
ocean of doubt. The papists have the easiest creed, for 
they believe that which they are taught, and take the 
mysteries of the Unseen World at second-hand from their 
priests. A year ago, had I been happy enough to win your 
daughter, I should have tried my hardest to ween her from 
Eome ! but I have lived and thought since then, and I 
have come to see that Calvinism is a religion of despair, 
and that the doctrine of predestination involves contradic- 
tions as difficult to swallow as any fable of the Roman 
Church.” 

It is well that you should be prepared to let her keep 
her religion ; for I doubt she has a stubborn affection for 
the creed she learnt in her childhood. Indeed it was but 
the other day she talked of the cloister ; and I fear she has 
all the disposition to that religious prison in which her 
great aunt lived contentedly for the space of a long life- 
time. But it is for you, Denzil, to cure her of that fancy, 
and to spare me the pain of seeing my best beloved child 
under the black veil.” 

Indeed, sir, if a love as earnest as man ever experi- 
nced ” 

‘^^Yes, Denzil, I know you love her ; and I love you 
almost as if you were my very son. In the years that went 
by after Hyacinth was born, before the beginning of trouble. 
I used to long for a son, and Fm afraid I did sometimes 
distress my dear wife by dwelling too persistently upon 
disappointed hopes. And then came chaos, England in 
arms, a rebellious people, a king put upon his defense — and 
I had leisure to think of none but my royal master. And 
in the thick of the strife my poor lamb was born to me — 
the bringer of my lifers great sorrow — and there no more 
thought of sons. So, you see, friend, the place in my 
heart and home has waited empty for you. Win but yon- 


When The World Was Younger. 


388 


der shy dove to consent, and we shall be of one family and ) 
of one mind, and I as happy as any broken-down campaigner 
in England can be — content to creep to the grave in ob- J 
sciirity, forgotten by the Prince whose father it is my dear 
memory to have served. 

"‘'You loved your king, sir, I take it, with a personal 
affection.^'’ 


""Ah, Denzil we all loved him. Even the common 
people — led as they were by hectoring preachers of sedition, 
of no more truth or honesty than the mountebanks that 
ply their knavish trade round Henryks statue on the Pont 
IS’euf — even they, the very rabble, had their hours of 
loyalty. I rode with his majesty from Eoyston to Hatfield, 
in T7, when the people filed the midsummer air with his 
name, from hearts melting with love and pity. They 
strewed the ways with boughs, and strewed the boughs 
with roses. So great honor has been seldom showed to a 
royal captive. 

"" I take it that the lower class are no politicians, and 
loved their king for his private virtues." 

"" Never was monarch worthier to be so esteemed. He 
was a man of deep affections, and it was perhaps his most 
fatal quality where he loved to love too much. I have no 
grudge against that beautiful and most accomplished 
woman he so worshiped, and who was ever gracious to 
me ; but I cannot doubt that Henrietta Maria was his evil 
star. She had the fire and daring of her father, but none 
of his care and affection for the people. The daughter of 
the most beloved of kings had the instincts of a tyrant, 
and was ever urging her doating husband to unpopular 
measures. She wanted to set that little jeweled shoe 'of 
hers on the neck of a rebellion, where she should have held 
out a soft white hand to make friends of her foes. Her 
beauty and her grace might have done much, had she in- 
herited with the pride of fhe Medici something of their 


Patient Not Passionate. 


3S9 


finesse and suavity. But he loved her, Denzil, forgave all 
her follies, her lavish spending and wasteful splendor. 

^ My wife is a bad housekeeper,^ I heard him say once, 
when she was hanging upon his chair as he sat at the end 
of the council table. The palace accounts were on the 
table — three thousand pounds for a masque — extravagance 
only surpassed by Nicolas Fouquet twenty years after- 
wards, when he was squandering the public money. ^ My 
wife is a bad housekeeper,^ his majesty said gently, and then 
he drew down the little French museau with a caressing 
hand, and kissed her in the presence of those graybeards.” 

His son is strangely unlike him in domestic matters. 

His son has the manners of a Frenchman and the 
morals of a Turk. He is a despot to his wife and a slave 
to his mistress. There never was greater cruelty to a 
woman than his majesty’s treatment of Catherine while 
she was still but a stranger in the land, and when he forced 
his notorious paramour upon her as her lady of honor. Of 
honor, quotha ! There was sorry store of honor in his 
conduct ! He had need feel the sting of remorse t’other 
day when the poor lady was thought to be on her death- 
l3ed — so gentle, so affectionate, so broken to the long suf- 
fering of consort-queens, apologizing, for having lived to 
trouble him. Ned Hyde has given me the whole story of 
that poor lady’s subjugation, for he was behind the scenes, 
and in their secrets. Poor soul ! blood rushed from her 
ears and nostrils when that shameless woman was brought 
to her, and she was carried swooning to her chamber. 
And then she was sullen, and the king threatened her, and 
sent away all the Portuguese, save one ancient waiting- 
woman. I grant you they were ugly devils, fit to set in a 
field to frighten crows ; but Catherine loved them. Eoyal 
|;reatment for a Christian queen from a Christian king I 
Could the Sophy do worse ? And presently the poor lady 
yielded-.-as most women will; for at heart they are slavi>|^ 


390 When The World Was Younger. 

and love to be beaten — and after holding herself aloof for 
a long time — a sad, silent, neglected figure where all the 
rest were loud and merry — she made friends with the Lady, 
and even seemed to fawn upon her.'’^ 

And now I dare swear the two women mingle their 
tears when Charles is unfaithful to both ; or Catherine 
weeps while Barbara curses. That would be more in charac- 
ter. Eire and not water is her ladyship^s element.” 

Ah, Denzil, Tis a curious change, and to have lived to 
see Buckingham murdered and Strafford sacrificed, and the 
Eebellion, and the Commonwealth and the Eestoration, 
and the Plague, and the Fire, and to have skirmished in 
the battles of Parliaments and Princes, Pother side the 
Channel, and seen the tail of the thirty years^ war, towns 
ruined, villages laid waste, where Tilly passed in blood and 
fire, is to have lived through as wild a variety of fortunes 
as ever madman invented in a dream.” 

Denzil lingered at the Manor, urged again and again by 
his host to stay over the day fixed for departure, and so 
lengthening his visit with a most willing submission till 
late in J une, when the silence of the nightingales made 
sleep more possible, and the sunset was so late and the 
sunrise so early that there seemed to be no such thing as 
night. He had made up his mind to plead for a hearing 
in the hour of farewell ; and it may have been as much 
from apprehension of that fateful hour as even from the 
delight of being in his mistress’s company that he acceded 
with alacrity when Sir John desired him to stay. But an 
end must come at last to all hesitations, and a familiar 
verse repeated itself in his brain with the persistent itera- 
tion of cathedral chimes — 

“ He either fears his fate too much, 

Or his desert is small, 

"Who fears to put it to the touch, 

And win or lose it all.” 


Patient Not Passionate. 


391 

Sir J ohn pushed him towards his fate with affectionate 
urgency. * 

Never be dastardized by a girPs refusal, man/^ said 
the knight, warm with his morning draught, on that last 
day, when the guesPs horses had been fed for a journey 
and the saddle-bags packed. Don^t let a simpleton’s 
coldness cow your spirits. The wench likes you ; else she 
would scarce have endured your long sermons upon weeds 
and insects, or been smiling and contented in your company 
all these weeks. Take heart of grace, man ; and remem- 
ber that though I am no tyrannical father to drag an un- 
willing bride to the altar, I have all a father’s authority, 
and will not have my dearest wishes balked by the capri- 
cious humors of a coquette.” 

Not for worlds, sir, would I owe to authority what 
love cannot freely grant ” 

Don’t chop logic, Denzil. You want my daughter : 
and by God you shall have her ! Win her with pretty 
speeches if you can. If she turn stubborn she shall have 
plain English from me. I have promised not to force her 
inclination ; but if I am driven to harsh measures ’twill be 
for her own good I am severe. Ventregris ! What can 
fortune give her better than a handsome and virtuous 
husband ? ” 

Angela was in the garden when Denzil went to take 
leave of her. She was walking up and down beside a long 
border of June flowers, screened from rough winds by 
those thick walls of yew which gave such a comfortable 
sheltered feeling to the Manor gardens, while in front of 
flowers and turf there sparkled the waters of a long pond 
or stew, stocked with tench and carp, some among them 
as ancient and greedy as the scaly monsters of Fontaine- 
bleau. 

The sun was shining on the dark green water and the 
gaudy flower-bed, and Angela’s favorite spaniel was run- 


392 When The World Was Younger. 

ning about the grass, barking his loudest, chasing bird or 
butterfly with impotent fury, since he never caught any- 
thing. At sight of Denzil he tore across the greensward, 
his silky ears flying, and barked at him as if the young man^s 
appearance in that garden were an insufferable imper- 
tinence ; but on being taken up in one strong hand, changed 
his opinion, and slobbered the face of the foe in an ecstasy 
of affection. 

Soho, Ganymede, thou knowest I bear thee a good 
heart, and plaything and mere pretence of a dog as thou 
art,^^ said Denzil, depositing the little bundle of black-and- 
tan flossiness at Angela^s feet. 

He might have carried and nursed his mistresses favorite 
with pleasure during any casual sauntering and random 
talk ; but a man could hardly ask to have his fate decided 
for good or ill with a toy spaniel in his arms. 

My horse is at the door, Angela, and I am come to 
bid you good-bye, he said in a grave voice. 

The words were of the simplest ; but there was some- 
thing in his tone that told her all was not said. She paled 
at the thought of an approaching conflict ; for she knew 
her father was against her, and that there must be hard 
fighting. 

They walked the length of fiower border and lawn in 
silence ; and then, when they were furthest from the 
house, and from the hazard of eyes looking out of windows, 
he stopped suddenly, and took her unresisting hand which 
lay cold in his. 

Dearest, I have kept silence through all those blessed 
days in which you and I have been together, but I have 
not left off loving you or hoping for you. Things have 
changed since I spoke to you in London last winter. I 
have powerful advocate now whose pleading ought to 
prevail with you — a father whose anxious affection urges 
what my jpassioriate love so ardently desires. Indeed, dear 


Patient Not Passionate. 


393 


heart, if you will be kind, you can make a father and lover 
happy with one breath. You have but to say ^Yes, to 

the prayer you know of ” 

Indeed, indeed, Denzil, I cannot. I am your true 
and faithful friend. If you were sick and alone — as his 
lordship was — I would go to you and nurse you, as your 
friend and sister. If you were poor and I were rich I 
would divide my fortune with you. I shall always think 
of you with affection — always take pleasure in your society 
if you will let me ; but it must be as your sister. You 
have no sister, Denzil — I no brother. Why cannot we be 
to each other as brother and sister ? ” 

Only because from the hour when your beauty and 
sweetness began to grow into my mind I have been your 
lover, and nothing else — your adoring lover. I cannot 
change my fervent hope for the poor name of friend. I 
can never again dare be to you what I have been in this 
happy season last past, unless you will let me be more 
than I have been.'’^ 

^^Alas!^^ 

Only that one word, with a sorrowful shake of the 
graceful head, covered with feathery ringlets in the dainty 
fashion of that day, so becoming in youth, so inappropriate 
to advancing years, when the rich profusion of curls came 
straight from Chedreux, or some of his imitators, and 
baldness was hidden by the spoils of the dead. 

^^Alas!^^ 

No need for more than that sad dissyllable. 

Then I am no nearer winning this dear hand than I 
was at Fareham House ?’’ he said, heartbrokenly, for he 
had built high hopes upon her kindness and willing com- 
panionship in that Arcadian valley. 

I told you then that I should never marry. I have 
not changed my mind. I never can change, I am to be 
Henriette"? spinster aunt.” 


394 When The World Was Younger. 

And Fareham’s spinster sister ? said Denzil. I | 
understand. We are neither of us cured of our malady. 
It is my disease to love you in spite of your disdain. It is 
your disease to love where you should not. Farewell ! 

He was gone before she could reply. The livid anger of 
his face, the deep resentment in his voice haunted her 
memory, and made life almost intolerable. 

My sin has found me out,” she said to herself, as she 
paced the garden with the rapid steps that indicate a 
distempered spirit. What right has he to pry into the 
depths of my mind, and ferret out all that there is of evil 
in my nature. Well, he goes the surest way to make me 
hate him. If ever he comes here again, I will run away 
and hide from all who know me. I would rather be a 
farm-servant, and rise at daybreak to work in the fields, 
than endure his insolence.” 

She had to bear pain worse before Denzil had ridden far 
upon his journey ; for her father came to the garden 
to seek her, eager to know the result of his protege’s 
wooing. 

^^Well, sweetheart,” he began, taking her to his bosom 
and kissing her. Do I salute the future Lady 
Warner ? ” 

Ho, sir ; lam too well content with the name I inherit 
to desire any other.” 

That is gracefully said, cherie ; but I want to see my 
ewe lamb happily wedded. Has thy sweetheart stolen 
away without finding courage to ask the question that 
has been on the tip of his tongue for the last six weeks ? ” 

He has been both importunate and impertinent, sir, 
and he has had his answer. I hope I may never see him 
again.” 

What ! you have refused him ? You must be mad ! ” 

Ho, sir ; sober and sane enough to know when I am 
happy. I told you before this gentleman came here that 


Patient Not Passionate. 395 

I did not mean to marry. Surely I am not so unloving a 
daughter that I must he driven to take a husband be- 
cause my father will not have me.” 

Angela, it is for your own safety and welfare I would 
have you married. What have you to succeed to when I 
am gone ? A poor estate, in a country that has seen such 
rough changes within a score of years, that one dare 
scarcely calculate upon a prolonged time of safety, even in 
this sequestered valley. God only knows when cannon- 
balls may tear up our fields, and bullets whistle through 
the copses. This monarchy, restored with such a clamorous 
approval, may endure no longer than the Commonwealth, 
which was thought to be lasting. His majesty^s trivial 
life and gross extravagance have disgusted and alarmed 
some who loved him dearly, and have set the common 
people questioning whether the rough rule of the Protector 
were not better than the ascendancy of shameless women 
and dissolute men. The pageantry of Whitehall may 
vanish like a parchment scroll in a furnace, and Charles, 
who has tasted the source of exile, may be again a wanderer, 
dependent on the casual munificence of foreign states ; 
and in such an evil hour,” continued the knight, his mind 
straying from the contemplation of his daughter's future 
to the memory of his own wrongs ; Charles Stuart may 
remember the old puts who fought and suffered for his 
father, and how scurvy a recompense they had for their 
services.” 

He reverted to DenziPs offer after a brief silence, Angela 
walking dutifully by his side, prepared to suffer any harsh- 
ness upon his part without complaining. 

I love the young man, and he would be to me as a son,” 
he said : "" the comrade and support of my old age. I am 
poor, as the world goes now ; have but just enough to live 
modestly in this retreat, where life costs but little. He is 
rich, and can give you a handsome seat near your sister^s 


396 When The World Was Younger. 

mansion, and a house in London, if you desire one ; less 
splendid, doubtless, than Fareham's palace on the Thames, 
but more befitting the habits and manners of an English 
gentleman^s wife. He can give you hounds and hawks, 
your riding-horses, and your coach and six. What more, 
in God^s name, can any reasonable woman desire ? | 

Only one thing, sir: To live my own life in peace, as | 
my conscience and my reason bid me. I cannot love Denzil 
AVarner, though of late I have grown to like and respect 1 
him as a friend and most intelligent companion. Your j| 
persistence is fast changing friendship into dislike, and 
the very name of the man would speedily become hateful 
to me.” 

^^Oh, I have done,” retorted Sir John. am no 

tyrant. You must take your own way, mistress. I can 
but lament that Providence gave me only two daughters, 
and one of them an arrant fool.” 

He left her in a huff, and had it not been for a stupen- 
dous event, which convulsed town and country, and sus- 
pended private interests and private quarrels in the excite- 
ment of public affairs, she would have heard much more 
of his discontent. 

The Hutch ships were at Chatham. English men-of- 
war were blazing at the very mouth of the Thames, and 
there was panic lest the triumphing foe should sail their 
warship up the river to London, besiege the Tower, 
relight the fire whose ashes were scarce grown cold, pillage, 
slaughter, destroy — as Tilly had destroyed the wretched 
provinces in the religious war. 

Here in this sheltered haven, amidst green fields, under 
the lee of Brill, the panic and consternation were as in- 
tense as if the village of St. Nicholas were the one spot the 
Dutch would make for after landing ; and, indeed, there 
were rustics who went to the placid scene where the infant 
stream rises in its cradle of reed and lily, half expectant of 


Patient Not Passionate. 


397 

seeing uncouth Netherlandish vessels stranded among the 
rushes. 

The Dutch fleet was at Chatham. Ships were being 
sunk across the Medway to stop the invader. 

Sheerness was to be fortified. London was in arms ; 
and Brill remembered its repulse of Hampden^s regiment 
with a proud consciousness of being invincible. 

The Dutch fleet saved Angela many a paternal lecture ; 
for Sir J ohn rode post-haste towards London, and did not 
return until the end of the month. 

In London he found Hyacinth, much disturbed about 
her husband, who had gone as volunteer with General 
Middleton, and was in command of a cavalry regiment at 
Chatham. 

‘‘1 never saw him in such spirits as when he left me,^^ 
Lady Fareham told her father. I belive he is ever 
happiest when he breathes gunpowder. 

Sir JohAs leave-taking had been curt and moody, for 
his daughter's offense rankled deep in his mind ; and it 
was as much as he could do to command his anger even in 
bidding her good-bye. 

Did I not tell you that we live in troubled times, and 
that no man can foresee the coming of evil, or how great 
our woes and distractions may be ?’’ he asked, with a 
gloomy triumph. Who ever thought to see De EuyteFs 
guns at Sheerness, or to see the Eoyal Charles led captive ? 
Absit omen ! Who knows what destruction may come 
upon that other royal Charles, for whose safety we pray 
morning and night, and who lolls across a basset-table, 
perhaps with his wantons round him, while we are on 
our knees supplicating the Creator for him — who knows ? 
We may have London in flames again, and a conflagration 
more fatal than the last, thou obstinate wench, before thou 
art a week older, and every able-bodied man called away 
from plough and pasture to serve the king, and desolation 


398 When The World Was Younger. | 

and famine where now plenty smiles at us. And is this ^ 
time in which to refuse a valiant and wealthy protector. j 
All over as honest as ever God made ; a pious conforming-, 
Christian of unsullied name ; a young man after my own| 
pattern ; a fine horseman and a good farmer ; one who > 
loves a pack of hounds and a well-bred horse, a flight of | 
hawks and a match at bowls, better than to give chase to a | 
sh e-rake in the Mall, or to drink himself stark mad at a ; 
tavern in C event Garden with debauchees from White- 
hall ? 1 

Sir John prosed and grumbled to the last moment, but 1 
could not refuse to bend down from his saddle and kiss 
the fair pale face that looked at him in piteous deprecation I 
at the moment of parting. 1 

Well, keep a brave heart. Mistress Wilful. Thou art ‘ 
safe here yet a while from Dutch marauders. I go but to 
find out how much truth there is in these panic rumors. I 
She begged him not to fatigue himself with too long 
stages, and went back to the silent house, thankful to be 
alone in her despondency. She felt as if the last page in 
her worldly life had been written. She had to turn her 
thoughts backward to that quiet retreat where there would 
at least be peace. She had promised her father that she 
would not return to the convent while he wanted her at 
home. But was that promise to hold good if he were to 
embitter her life by urging her to a marriage that would 
only bring her unhappiness ? 

She had ample leisure for thought in one summer day of 
a solitude so absolute that she began to shiver in the sultry 
stillness of afternoon, and scarce ventured to raise her eyes 
from book or embroidery frame, lest some shadowy presence, 
some ghost out of the dead past, should hover near, watch- 
ing her as she sat alone in scenes where that pale spirit 
had been living flesh. The thought of all who had lived 
and died in that house — men and women of her own race. 


Patient Not Passionate. 


399 


whose qualities of mind and person she had inherited — 
oppressed her in the long hours of silent reverie. Before 
her first day of loneliness had ended her spirits had sunk 
to deepest melancholy ; and in that weaker condition of 
mind she had begun to ask herself whether she had any 
right to oppose her father^s wishes by denying herself to a 
suitor whom she esteemed and respected, and whose filial 
affection v/ould bring new sunshine into that dear father^s 
declining years. She had noted their manner to each other 
during DenziPs protracted visit, and had seen all the evi- 
dences of a warm regard on both sides. She had too com- 
plete a faith in DenziPs sterling worth to question the 
reality of any feeling which his words and manner indicated. 
He was above all things a man of truth and honesty. 

She was roaming about the gardens with her dog to- 
wards noon in the second day of her solitude, when across 
the yew hedges she saw white clouds of dust rising from 
the high-road, and heard the clatter of hoofs and roll of 
wheels — a noise as of a troop of cavalry — whereat Gany- 
mede barked himself almost into an apoplexy, and rushed 
across the grass like a mad thing. 

A great cracking of whips and sound of voices, horses 
galloping, horses trotting, dust enough to whiten all the 
hedges and greensward. Angela stood at gaze, wondering 
if the Dutch were coming to storm the old house or the 
county militia coming to garrison it. 

The Manor Moat was the destination of that clamorous 
troop, whoever they were. Wheels and horses stopped 
sharply at the great iron gate in front of the house, and the 
bell began to ring furiously ; while other dogs, with voices 
that curiously resembled Ganymede^s, answered his shrill 
bark with even shriller yelpings. 

Angela ran towards the gate, and was near enough to 
see it opened to admit three black and tan spaniels, and 
one slim personage in a long flame-colored brocatelle gown 


400 When The World Was Younger. 

and a large beaver hat, who approached with stately move- 
ments, a small pert nose held high, and rosy upper lip 
curled in patrician disdain of common things, while a fan 
of peacock^s plumage, that flashed sapphire and emerald 
in the flerce noonday sun, was waved slowly before the 
dainty face, scattering the tremulous life of summer that 
buzzed and fluttered in the sultry air. 

In the rear of this brilliant flgure appeared a middle- 
aged person in a gray silk gown and hood, a negro page 
in the Fareham livery, a waiting woman, and a tall 
flunky, so many being the necessary adjuncts of the Honor- 
able Henriette Marie EeveFs state when she went abroad. 

Angela ran to receive her niece with a cry of rapture, 
and the tall slip of a girl in the flame-colored frock was 
clasped to her aunFs heart with a ruthless disregard of 
the beaver hat and cataract of ostrich plumage. 

Prends garde d^abimer mon chapeau, pTite tante,” 
cried Henriette, Tis one of Lewin^’s JSTell Gwyn hats, and 
cost twenty guineas, without the buckle, which I stole out 
of father’s shoes t’other day. His lordship is so careless 
about his clothes that he wore the shoes two days and 
never knew there was a buckle missing, and those lazy 
devils, his servants never told him. I believe they meant 
to rook him of t’other buckle.” 

Chatterer, chatterer, how happy I am to see thee ! 
But is not your mother with you ? ” 

Her ladyship is in London. Everybody of importance 
is scampering off to London ; and no doubt will be rushing 
back to the country again if the Dutch take the Tower, 
but I don’t think they will while my father is able to raise 
a regiment.” 

'^And mademoiselle,” with a courtesy to the lady in 
gray, ^^has brought you all this long way through the 
heat to see me ? ” 

I have brought mademoiselle,” Henriette answered 


Patient Not Passionate. 


401 


contemptuously, before the Frenchwoman had finished the 
moue and the shrug which with her ever proceeded 
speech ; and a fine plague I had to make her come.’’^ 

Madame will conceive that in miladks absence it was a 
prodigious inconvenience to order two coaches and travel 
so far. His lordship^s groom of the chamber is my wit- 
ness that I protested against such an outrageous proceed- 
ing."" 

Two coaches ! exclaimed Angela. 

A coach and six for me and my dogs and my gouver- 
nante, and a coach and four for my people/^ exclaimed 
Henriette, who had modelled her equipage and suite upon 
a reminiscence of the train which attended Lady Castle- 
maine^s visit to Chilton, as beheld from a nursery window. 

Come, child, and you, mademoiselle, must be needing 
refreshments after so long a drive. 

Our progress through a perpetual cloud of dust and a 
succession of narrow lanes did indeed suggest the torments 
of purgatory ; but the happiness of madame^s gracious 
welcome is an all-sufficient compensation for our fatigue,” 
mademoiselle replied, with a deep courtesy. 

I was not tired in the least. We stopped at the 
Crown at Thame and had strawberries and milk.” 

You had strawberries and milk, mon enfant. I have 
a digestion which will not allow such liberties.” 

And our horses were baited, and our people had their 
morning drink,” said Henriette, with her grown-up air. 

One ought always to remember cattle and servants. 
May we put up our horses with you, auntie? We must 
leave you soon after dinner, so as to be at Chilton by sun- 
set, or mademoiselle will be afraid of highwaymen ; though 
I told Samuel and Peter to bring their blunderbusses in 
case of an attack. Ma'amselle has no valuables, and at the 
worst I should but have to give them my diamond buckle, 
and my locket with his lordship's portrait.” 

26 


402 When The World Was Younger. 

Angela^s cheeks flushed at that chance allusion to Tare- 
ham^s picture. It brought back a vision of the convent 
parlor, and she standing there with Fareham^s miniature 
in her hand, wonderingly contemplative of the dark strong 
face. At that stage of her life she had seen so few men^s 
faces ; and this one had a power in it that startled her. 
Did she divine, by some supernatural foreknowledge, that 
this face held the secret of her destiny ? 

She went to the house with Henriette’s lissom form 
hanging upon her, and the gray governess tripping minc- 
ingly beside them, tottering a little upon her high heels. 

Old Eeuben had crept out into the sunshine, with a rustic 
footman following him, and the cook was looking out at a 
window in the wing where kitchen and servants^ hall occu- 
pied as important a position as the dining parlor and saloon 
on the opposite side. A hall with open roof, wide double 
staircase and music gallery, filled the central space between 
the two projecting wings, and at the back there was a ban- 
queting chamber or ball-room, where in its prosperous days 
the family had been accustomed to dine on all stately oc- 
casions — a room now shabby and gray with disuse. 

While the footman showed the way to the stables. An- 
gela drew Eeuben aside for a brief consultation as to ways 
and means for a dinner that must be the best the house 
could provide and served at two o’clock, the later hour giv- 
ing time for extra preparations. A capon larded after the 
French fashion, a pair of trouts, the finest the stream could 
furnish, or a carp stewed in clary wine, and as many sweet 
kickshaws, as cook’s ingenuity could furnish at so brief 
notice. Nor were waiting-woman, lackey, and postilions to 
be neglected. Chine and sirloin, pudding and beer must be 
provided for all. 

There are six men beside the black boy,” sighed Eeu- 
ben ; they will devour us a week’s provision of butcher’s 
meat.” 


Patient Not Passionate. 


403 


If you have done your housekeeping, tante, let me go 
to your favorite summer-house with you, and tell you my 
secrets. I am perishing for a tete-a-tete ! Ma'amselle, with 
a wave of the peacock fan, can take a siesta, and forget 
the dust of the road, while we converse. 

Angela ushered mademoiselle to the pretty summer par- 
lor, looking out upon a geometrical arrangement of flower- 
beds in the Dutch manner. Chocolate and other light re- 
freshments were being prepared for the travelers ; but 
Henriette^'s impatience would wait for nothing. 

I have not driven along these detestable roads to taste 
your chocolate,” she protested, I have a world to say to 
you : en attendant, mademoiselle, you will consider every- 
thing at your disposition in the house of my grandfather, 
jus qiP a deux heures.” 

She sank almost to the ground in a Whitehall curtsey, 
rose swift as an arrow, tucked her arm through Angela^s, 
and pulled her out of the room, paying no attention to the 
governesses voluble injunctions not to expose her complex- 
ion to the sun, or to sit in a cold wind, or to spoil her gown. 

^^What a shabby old place it is !” she said, looking crit- 
ically round her as they went through the gardens. ^^Pm 
afraid you must perish with ennui here, with so few servants 
and no company to speak of. Yes,” contemplating her 
shrewdly, as they seated themselves in a stone temple at 
the end of the bowling-green, ‘^^you are looking moped and 
ill. This valley air does not agree with you. Well, you 
can have a much finer place whenever you choose. A better 
house and garden, ever so much nearer Chilton. And you 
will choose, wonT you, dearest nestling close to her, 
after throwing off the big hat which made such loving con- 
tact impossible. 

don’t understand you, Henriette.” 

If you call me Henriette I shall be sure you are angry 
with me.” 


404 When The World Was Younger. 

love, not angry, only surprised.” 

You think I have no right to talk of your sweetheart, 
because I am only thirteen — and have scarce left olf playing 
with babies — I have hated them for ages, only people per- 
sist in giving me the foolish puppets. I know more of the 
world than you do, auntie, after being shut in a convent the 
best part of your life. Why are you so obstinate, ma cherie, 
in refusing a gentleman we all like ? ” 

Do you mean Sir Denzil ? ” 

Sans doute. Have you a crowd of servants ?” 

^^No, child, only this one. But donT you see that 
other people’s liking has less to do with the question than 
mine ? And if I do not like him well enough to be his 
wife ” 

But you ought to like him. You know how long her 
ladyship’s heart has been set on the match ; you must have 
seen what pains she took in London to have Sir Denzil 
always about you. And now after a most exemplary patience, 
after being your faithful servant for over a year, he asks 
you to be his wife, and you refuse, obstinately refuse. And 
you would rather mope here with my poor old grandfather — 
in abject poverty — mother says ^abject poverty’ — than be 
the honored mistress of one of the finest seats in Oxford- 
shire.” 

I would rather do what is right and honest, my dearest. 
It is dishonest to marry without love.” 

Then half mother’s fine friends must be dishonest, for 
I dare swear that very few of them love their husbands.” 

Henriette, you talk of things you don’t know.” 

Don’t know ! why there is no one in London knows 
more. I am always listening, and I always remember. De 
Malfort used to say I had a plaguey long memory, when I 
told him of things he had said a year ago.” 

My dear, I love you fondly, but I cannot have you talk 
to me of what you don’t understand ; and I am sorry Sir 


Patient Not Passionate. 


405 

Denzil Warner had no more courtesy than to go and com- 
plain of me to my sister.'’^ 

He did not come to Chilton to complain. Her ladyship 
met him on the way from Oxford in her coach. He was 
riding, and she called to him to come to the coach door. 
It was the day after he left you, and he was looking mis- 
erable ; and she questioned him, and he owned that his suit 
had been rejected, and he had no further hope. My lady 
came home in a rage. But why was she angry with his 
lordship ? Indeed, she rated him as if it were his fault you 
refused Sir Denzil.” 

Angela sat silent, and the hand Henriette was clasping 
grew cold as ice. 

Did my father bid you to refuse him, aunt ? ” asked 
the girl, with those dark gray eyes, so like Fareham in their 
falcon brightness. 

‘^‘^No, child. Why should he interfere ? It is no busi- 
ness of his.” 

Then why was my mother so angry ? She walked up 
and down the room in a towering passion. ^ This is your 
doing,^ she cried. ^ If she were not your adoring slave she 
would have jumped at so handsome a sweetheart. This is 
your witchcraft. It is you she loves — you — you — you ! ” 
His lordship stood dumb, and pointed to me. ^ Do you 
forget your child is present ? ^ he said. ^ I forget every- 
thing except that everybody uses me shamefully,^ she cried. 
‘^I was only made to be slighted and trampled upon.'’ 
His lordship made no answer, but walked to the door in 
that way he ever has when he is angered — pale — frowning 
— silent. I was standing in his way, and he gripped me 
by the arm, and dragged me out of the room. I dare 
venture there is a bruise on my arm where he held me. I 
know his fingers hurt me with their grip ; and I could hear 
my lady screaming and sobbing as he took me away. But 
he would not let me go back to her. He would only send 


4o 6 When The World Was Younger. 

her women. ^ Your mother has an interval of madness/ 
he said; ‘'you are best out of her presence.’’ The news 
of the Dutch ship came the same evening, and my father 
rode off towards London, and my mother ordered her 
coach, and followed an hour after. They seemed both 
distracted, and only because you refused Sir Denzil.” 

I cannot help her ladyship^’s foolishness, Papillon. She 
has no occasion for any of this trouble. I am her dutiful, 
affectionate sister ; but my heart is not hers to give or to 
refuse. 

^^Butwns it indeed my father’s fault? Is it because 
you adore him that you refused Sir Denzil ? ” 

^^Yo — no — no. My affection for my brother — he has 
been to me as a brother — can make no difference in my re- 
gard for anyone else. One cannot fall in love at another’s 
ordering, or be happy with a husband of another’s choice. 
You wdll discover that for yourself, Papillon, perhaps, 
when you are a woman.” 

Oh, I mean to marry for wealth and station, as all the 
clever women do,” said Papillon, with an upward jerk of 
her delicate chin. Mrs. Lewin always says I ought to be 
a duchess. I should like to have married the Duke of 
Monmouth, and then who knows, I might have been a 
queen. The king’s other sons are too young for me, and 
they will never have Monmouth’s chance. But, indeed, 
sweetheart, you ought to marry Sir Denzil, and come 
and live near us at Chilton. You would make us all 
happy.” 

Ma tres chere, it is so easy to talk, but when thou thy- 
self art a woman ” 

I shall never care for such trumpery as love. I mean 
to have a grand house — ever so much grander than Fare- 
ham House. Perhaps I may marry a Frenchman, and 
have a salon, and all the wits about me on my day. I 
would make it gayer than Mademoiselle de Scudery’s Satur- 


p?atient Not Passionate. 407 

days, which my governess so loves to talk of. There should 
be less talk and more dancing. But listen, pTite tante,” 
clasping her arms suddenly round Angela^s neck, I wonT 
leave this spot till you have promised to change your mind 
about Denzil. I like him vastly ; and Pm sure there^s no 
reason why you should not love him — unless you really are 
his lordship^s adoring slave,^^ emphasizing those last words, 
and he has forbidden you.” 

Angela sat dumb, her eyes fixed on vacancy. 

"Why, you are like the lady in those lines you made me 
learn, who, ^ sat like patience on a monument, smiling at 
grief.^ Dearest, why so sad ? Eemember that fine house 
— and the dairy that was once a chapel. You could turn 
it into a chapel again if you liked, and have your own 
chaplain. His majesty takes no heed of what we papists 
do — being a papist himself at heart they say — though 
poor wretches are dragged off to jail for worshiping in 
a conventicle. What is a conventicle ? Will you not 
change your mind, dearest ? Answer, answer, answer ! ” 
The slender arms tightened their caress, the pretty little 
brown face pressed itself against Angela’s pale cold cheek. 

For my sake, sweetheart, say thou wilt have him. I 
will go to see thee every day.” 

have been here for months and you have not come, 
though I begged you in a dozen letters.” 

I have been kept at my books and my dancing lessons. 
Mademoiselle told her ladyship that I was a monster of 
ignorance. I have been treated shamefully. I could not 
have come to-day had my lady been at home ; but I would 
not stoop to a hireling’s dictation. Voyons, p’tite, tante, 
tu seras miladi Warner. Dis, dis, que je te fasse crevor de 
baisers.” 

She was almost stifling her aunt with kisses in the in- 
tervals of her eager speech. 

‘"The last word has been spoken, Papillon. I have 


4o 8 When The World Was Yo\nger. 

sent him away — and it was not the first time. I had re- 
fused him before. I cannot call him back.^’ 

But he shall come without calling. He is your ador- 
ing slave/^ cried Henriette, leaping up from the stone 
bench, and clapping her hands in an ecstasy. He will 
need no calling. Dearest, dearest, most excellent adorable 
auntie ! I am so happy. And my mother will be content. 
And no one shall ever say you are my father^s slave.” 

Henriette, if you repeat that odious word I shall hate 
you.” 

‘^^Now you are angry. Gud, what a frown ! I will 
repeat no word that angers you. My lady Warner — sweet 
Lady Warner. I vow Tis a prettier name than Eevel or 
Tareham.” 

You are mad, Henriette. I have promised nothing.” 

^^Yes, you have, little aunt. You have promised to 
drop a curtsey, and say. ^ Yes,"* when Sir Denzil rides 
this way. You sent him away in a huff. He will come 
back smiling like yonder sunshine on the water. Oh, I 
am so happy ! My doing, all my doing.” 

‘^^It is useless to argue with you.” 

Quite useless. II n"y a pas de quoi. Nous sommes 
d^accord. I shall be your chief bridesmaid. You must be 
married in her majesty^s chapel at St. Jameses. The Pope 
will give his dispensation — if you cannot persuade Denzil 
to change his religion. Were he my suitor I would twist 
him round my fingers,” with an airy gesture of the small 
brown hand. 

There is nothing more difficult than to convince a child 
that she pleads in vain for any ardently desired object. 
Nothing that Angela could say would reconcile her niece to 
the idea of failure ; so there was no help but to let her 
fancy her arguments conclusive, and to change the bent of 
her thoughts if possible. 

It wanted nearly an hour of dinner-time, so Angela 


Patient Not Passionate. 


409 


suggested an inspection of tlie home farm, which was close 
by, trusting that Henriette^s love of animals would afford 
an all-sufficient diversion ; nor was she disappointed, for 
the little fine lady was quite as much at home in stable 
and cowshed as in a London drawing-room, and spent a 
happy hour in making friends with the live stock, from 
the favorite Hereford cow, queen of the herd, to the 
smallest bantam in the poultry-yard. 

To this rustic entertainment followed dinner, in the 
preparation of which banquet Marjory Cook had surpassed 
herself ; and Papillon, being by this time seriously hungry, 
sat and feasted to her hearPs content, discussing the 
marrow pudding and the stewed carp with the acumen 
and authority of a professed gourmet. 

I like this old-fashioned rustic diet,^^ she said, conde- 
scendingly. 

She reproached her governess with not doing justice to 
a syllabub ; but showed herself a fine lady by her com- 
plaint at the lack of ice for her wine. 

My grandfather should make haste and build an ice- 
house before next winter, she drawled. One can scarce 
live through this weather without ice," fanning herself 
with excessive languor. 

I hope, dear, thou wilt not expire before arriving at 
Chilton." 

The coaches were at the gate before Papillon had finished 
dinner, and mademoiselle was in great haste to be gone, 
reminding her pupil that she had traveled so far against 
her will and at the hazard of angering Madame la Baronne. 

Madame la Baronne will be enraptured when she 
knows what I have done to please her," answered Papillon, 
and then, with a last parting embrace, hugging her aunt^s 
fair neck more energetically than ever, she whispered, I 
shall tell Denzil. You will make us all happy." 

A ploud of dust, a clatter of hoofs^ .ma"amselle"s screams 


410 When The World Was Younger. 

as the carriage rocked while she was mounting the steps, 
and with much cracking of whips and swearing at horses 
from the postilions, who had taken their fill of home-brewed 
ale, hog^s harslet, and cold chine, and, lo, the brilliant 
vision of the Honorable Henriette Maria and her train 
vanished in the dust of the summer highway, and Angela 
went slowly back to the long green walk beside the fish- 
pond, where she was in as silent a solitude but for a linger- 
ing nightingale or two, as if she had been in the palace of 
the Sleeping Beauty. If all things slumbered not, there 
was at least as marked a jDause in life. The Dutch might 
be burning more ships, and the noise of war might be 
coming nearer London with every hour of the summer day. 
Here there was a repose as of the after-life when all hopes 
and dreams, and loves and hates are done and ended, and 
the soul waits in darkness and silence for the next unfold- 
ing of its wings. 

Those hateful words, your adoring slave,^^ and all that 
speech of Hyacinth^s which the child had repeated, haunted 
Angela with an agonizing iteration. She had not an in- 
stant’s doubt as to the scene being faithfully reported. 
She knew how preternatu rally acute Henriette’s intellect 
had become in the rarefied atmosphere of her mother’s 
drawing-room, how accurate her memory, how sharp her 
ears, and how observant her eyes. Whatever Henriette 
reported was likely to be to the very letter and spirit of 
the scene she had witnessed. And Hyacinth, her sister, 
had put this shame upon her, and spoken of her in the 
cruelest phrase as loving one whom it was mortal sin to 
love. Hyacinth, so light, so airy a nature, whom her 
younger sister had ever considered as a grown-up child, 
had yet been shrewd enough to fathom her mystery, and 
to discover that secret attachment which had made Denzil’s 
suit hateful to her. And if I do not consent to marry 
him she will always think ill of me. She will think of me 


Patient Not Passionate. 


• 411 


as a wretch who tried to steal her husband’s love — a worse 
woman than Lady Castlemaine — for she had the king’s 
affection before he ever saw the queen’s poor plain face. 
His adoring slave ! ” 

Evening shadows were around her. She had wandered 
into the woods, was slowly threading the slender cattle 
tracks in the cool darkness ; while that passionate song of 
the nightingales rose in a louder ecstasy as the quiet of the 
night deepened, and the young moon hung high above the 
edge of a wooded hill. 

His adoring slave,” she repeated, with her hands 
clasped above her uncovered head. 

Hateful, humiliating words ! Yet there was a keen 
rapture in repeating them. They were true words. His 
slave — his slave to wait upon him in sickness and pain ; to 
lie and watch at his door like a faithful dog ; to follow 
him to the wars, and clean his armor, and hold his horse, 
and wait in his tent to receive him wounded, and heal his 
wounds where surgeons failed to cure, wanting that inten- 
sity of attention and understanding which love alone can 
give ; to be his Bellario, asking nothing of him, hoping for 
nothing, hardly for kind words or common courtesy, fore- 
going woman’s claim upon man’s chivalry, content to he 
nothing only to be near him. 

If such a life could have been — the life that poets have 
imagined for despairing love ! It was less than a hundred 
years since handsome Mrs. Southwell followed Sir Eobert 
Dudley to Italy, disguised as a page. But the age of 
romance was past. The modern world had only laughter 
for such dreams. 

That revelation of Hyacinth’s jealousy had brought 
matters to a crisis. Something must be done, and 
quickly, to set her right with her sister, and in her own 
esteem. She had to choose between a loveless marriage 
and the convent. By accepting one or the other she 


412 When The World Was Younger. 

must prove that she was not the slave of a dishonorable 
love. 

Marriage or the convent ? It had been easy, contem- 
plating the step from a distance to choose the convent. 
But when she thought to-night, amidst the exquisite beauty 
of these woods, with the moonlit valley lying at her feet, 
the winding stream reflecting the moonbeams, or veiled in 
a silvery haze — to-night, in the liberty and loneliness of 
the earth, the vision of convent walls filled her with a 
shuddering horror. To be shut in that Flemish garden for 
ever ; her life enclosed within the straight lines of that 
long green alley leading to a dead wall, darkened over by 
flowerless ivy — how witlieringly dull the old life showed, 
looking back at it after years of liberty and enjoyment, 
action and variety. No, no, no ! She could not bury 
herself alive, could not forego the liberty to wander in a 
wood like this, to gaze upon scenes as beautiful as yonder 
valley, to read the poets she loved, to see, perhaps, some 
day those romantic scenes which she knew but as dreams — 
Florence, Vallombrosa — to follow the footsteps of Milton, 
to see the Venice she had read of in HowelFs letters, to 
kneel at the feet of the Holy Father, in the city of cities. 
All these things would be forever forbidden to her if she 
chose the common escape from earthly sorrow. 

She thought of her whose example had furnished the 
theme of many a discourse at the convent. Mazarines lovely 
niece, the Princess de Conti, who, in the bloom of early 
womanhood, Avas awakened from the dream of this life to 
the reality of Heaven, and had renounced the pleasures 
of the most brilliant court in the world for the severities 
of Port Eoyal. She thought of that sublime heretic Ferrar, 
whose later experience was one long prayer. Of how much 
baser a clay must she be fashioned when her too earthly 
heart clung so fondly to the loveliness of earth, and shrank 
with aversion from the prospect of a long life within 


Patient Not Passionate. 


413 

those walls where her childhood had been so peaceful and 
happy. 

How changed, how changed and corrupted this heart 
has become ! she murmured, in her dejection, when that 
life which was once my most ardent desire now seems to me 
worse than the grave. Anything — any life of duty in the 
world, rather than that living death. 

She was in the garden next morning at six, after a 
sleepless night, and she occupied herself till noon in going 
about among the cottages carrying those small comforts 
which she had been in the habit of taking them and listen- 
ing patiently to those various distresses which they were 
very glad to relate to her. She taught the children, and 
read to the sick, and was able in this round of duties to 
keep her thoughts from dwelling too persistently upon her 
own trouble. After the one o^clock dinner, at which she 
offended old Eeuben by eating hardly anything, she went 
for a woodland ramble with her dogs, and it was near sun- 
set when she returned to the house, just in time to see the 
two road-stained horses being led away from the hall door. 

Sir John had come home. She found him in the din- 
ing parlor, sitting gloomy and weary looking before the 
table where Eeuben was arranging a hasty meal. 

I have eaten nothing upon the road, yet I have but a 
poor stomach for your bacon-ham,'’^ he said, and then 
looked up at his daughter with a moody glance, as she 
went towards him. 

^^Dear sir, we must try to coax your appetite back when 
you have rested a little. Let me unbuckle your spurs, and 
pull off your boots, while Eeuben fetches your easiest shoes.-^^ 

Nay, child, that is man^s work, not for such fingers as 
yours. The boots are no wise irksome — Tis another kind 
of shoe that pinches, Angela. 

She knelt down to unbuckle the spur-straps, and while 
on her knees she said — 


414 When The World Was Younger. 

You look sad, sir. I fear you found ill news at 
London.” 

I found such shame as never before came upon Eng- 
land, such confusion as only traitors and profligates can 
know ; men who have cheated and lied and wasted the 
public money, left our fortresses undefended, our ships 
unarmed, our sailors unpaid, half-fed, and mutinous ; 
clamorous wives crying aloud in the streets that their 
husbands should not flght and bleed for a king who starved 
them. They have clapped the scoundrel who had charge 
of the yard at Chatham in the Tower, but will that mend 
matters ? A scapegoat, belike, to pay for higher scoundrels. 
The mob is loudest against the chancellor, who I doubt is 
not to blame for our unreadiness, having little power of 
late over the king. Oh, there has been iniquity upon in- 
iquity, and men know not whom most to blame — the venal 
idle servants, or the master of all. 

You mean that men blame his majesty ?” 

'No, Angela. But when our ships were blazing at Chat- 
ham, and the Dutch triumphing, the cry was ^ Oh, for an 
hour of old Noll.'’ Charles has played his cards so that he 
has made the loyalist hearts in England wish the Brewer 
back again. They called him the tiger of the seas. We 
have no tigers now, only asses and monkeys. Why, there 
was scarce a grain of sense left in London. The beat of the 
drums calling out the trainbands seemed to have stupefled 
the people. Everywhere madness and confusion. They 
have sunk their richest argosies at Barking Creek to block 
the river, but the Dutch break chains, ride over sunken 
ships, laugh our petty defences to scorn. ” 

Dear sir, this confusion cannot last.” 

It will last as long as the world’s history lasts. Our 
humiliation will never be forgotten.” 

But Englishmen will not look on idle. There must 
be brave men up in arms.” 


Patient Not Passionate. 


415 


Oh, there are brave men enough — Fairfax, Ingoldsby, 
Bethell, Norton. The Presbyterians come to the front in 
our troubles. Your brother-in-law is with Lord Middleton, 
there is no lack of officers, and regiments are being raised, 
but our merchant ships, which should be quick to help us, 
hang back. Our treasury is empty, half the goldsmiths in 
London bankrupt. And our ships that are burnt, and 
our ships that are taken, will not be conjured back 
again. The ^ Royal Charles^ carried off with insulting 
triumph. Oh, child, it is not the loss that galls, it is the 
shame ! 

He took a draught of claret out of the tankard which 
Angela placed at his elbow, and she carved the ham for him , 
and persuaded him to eat. 

Is it the public misfortune that troubles you so sadly, 
sir ? she asked, presently, when her father flung himself 
back in his chair with a heavy sigh. 

Nay, Angela, I have my peck of trouble without reckon- 
ing the ruin of my country. But my back is broad. It 
can bear a burden as well as any.'’^ 

Ho you count a disobedient daughter among your cares, 
sir ? ” 

Disobedient is too harsh a word. I told you I would 
never force your inclinations. But I have an obstinate 
daughter, who has disappointed me, and well-nigh broken 
my spirit. 

Your spirit shall not rest broken if my obedience can 
mend it, sir,"" she said gently, dropping on her knees beside 
his chair. 

What ! has that stony heart relented ? Wilt thou marry 
him, sweetheart ? Wilt give me a son as well as a daughter, 
and the security that thou wilt be safe and happy when I 
am gone ? "" 

No one can be sure of happiness, father ; it comes 
strangely, and goes we know not why. But if it will make 


4i 6 When The World Was Younger. 

your heart easier, sir, and Denzil be still of the same 
mind 

His mind is rock, dearest. He swore to me that he 
could never change. Ah, love, yon have made me happy ! 
Let the fleet burn, the ^ Eoyal Charles’ fly Dutch colors. 
Here, in this quiet valley, there shall be a peaceful household 
and united hearts. Angela, I love that youth ! Fareham, 
with all his rank and wealth, has never been so dear to me. 
That stern visage repels love. But Denzil’s countenance 
is open as the day. I can say " Nunc Dimittis ’ with a 
light heart. I can trust Denzil Warner with my daughter’s 
happiness.’ 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

QUITE OUT OF FASHION.” 

Denzil received good news by the hands of a mounted 
messenger in the following forenoon. 

The knight had written, ^^Ride — ride — ride!” in the 
Elizabethan style, on the cover of his letter, which con- 
tained but two brief sentences — 

Womanlike, she has changed her mind. Come when 
thou wilt, dear son.” 

And the son-in-law-to-be lost not an hour. He was at 
the Manor before nightfall. He was a member of the quiet 
household again, subservient to his mistress in everything, 
and submitted to be used somewhat ill from the lover’s 
standpoint. 

There are some words that must needs be spoken be- 
fore we are agreed,” Angela said, when they found them- 
selves alone for the first time in the garden, on the morning 
after his return, and when Denzil would fain have taken 


“ Quite Out Of Fashion.” 


41; 

her to his breast and ratified their betrothal with a kiss. 

I think you know as well as I do that it is my father’s 
wish that has made me change/^ she said. 

So long as you change not again, dear, I am of all 
men the happiest. Yes, I know ^tis Sir Johns's wooing 
that won you, not mine. And that I have still to conquer 
your heart, though your hand is promised me. Yet I do 
not despair of being loved in as full measure as I love. My 
faith is strong in the power of an honest affection. 

You may at least be sure of my honesty. I profess 
nothing but the desire to be your true and obedient 
wife ” 

Obedient ! You shall be my empress.” 

No, no, I have no wish to rule. I desire only to 
make my father happy, and you too, sir, if I can.” 

Ah, my soul, that is so easy for you. You have but 
to let me live in your dear company. I doubt I would 
rather be miserable with you than happy with any other 
woman. Ill-use me if you will ; play Zanthippe, and I will 
be weaker than Socrates. But you are all mildness — per- 
fect Christian, perfect woman. You cannot miss being 
perfect as wife — and — ” 

Another word trembled on his lips ; but he checked 
himself lest he should offend, and the speech ended in a 
sob. 

My Angela, my angel.” 

He took her to his heart, and kissed the fair brow, cold 
under his passionate kisses. That word angel ” turned 
her to ice. It conjured back the sound of a voice that it 
was sin to remember. Fareham had called her so ; not 
once, but many times, in their placid days of friendship, 
before the fiery breath of passion had withered all the 
flowers in her earthly paradise — before the knowledge of 
evil had clouded the brightness of the world. 

A gentle peace reigned at the Manor after Angela^s 

27 


41 8 When The World Was Younger. 

betrothal. Sir J ohn was happier than he had been since 
the days of his youth, before the coming of that cloud no 
bigger than a man^s hand, when John Hampden^s stub' 
born resistance of a thirty-shilling rate had brought the 
crown and the people face to face upon the burning ques- 
tion of ship-money, and kindled the fire that was to de- 
vour England. From the hour he left his young wife to 
follow the king to Yorkshire, Sir John’s life had known 
little of rest or of comfort, or even of glory. He had 
fought on the losing side, and had missed the fame of 
those who fell and took the rank of heroes by an untimely 
death. Hardship and danger, wounds and sickness, 
straitened means and scanty fare had been his portion for 
three bitter years, and then had come a period of patient 
service, of schemes and intrigues foredoomed to failure ; 
of going to and fro, from Jersey to Paris, from Paris to 
Ireland, from Ireland to Cornwall, journeying hither and 
thither at the behest of a shifty irresolute man, or a passion- 
ate imprudent woman, as the case might be ; now from the 
king to the queen, now from the queen to this or that ally ; 
futile errands, unskillful combinations, failure on every 
hand, till the last fatal journey, on which he was an un- 
willing attendant, the flight from Hampton Court to Titch- 
field, breaking faith with his enemies in an unfinished 
negotiation. 

Foreign adventure had followed English hardships, and 
the soldier had been tossed on the stormy sea of European 
Avarfare. He had been graciously received at the French 
court, but only to feel himself a stranger there, and to 
have his English clothes and English accent laughed at by 
Grammont and Bussy, and the accomplished St. Evre- 
mond, and the frivolous herd of their imitators ; to see 
even the queen, for whom he had spent his last jacobus, 
smile behind her fan at his bevues, and whisper to her 
sister-in-law while he knelt to kiss the little white hand 


Quite Out Of Fashion.” 


419 


that had led a king to ruin. Everywhere the stern Malig- 
nant had found himself outside the circle of the elect. At 
the Hotel de Eambouillet, in the splendid houses of the 
newly-built Place Eoyale, in the salons of duchesses, and 
the taverns of courtly roysterers and drunken poets, at 
Cormier’s or at the Pine Apple, in the Eue de la Juiverie, 
where it was all the better for a Christian gentleman not to 
understand the talk of the wits that flashed and drank 
there. Everywhere he had been a stranger and aloof. 
It was only under canvas, in danger and privation, that he 
lost the sense of being one too many in the world. There 
John Kirkland found his level, shoulder to shoulder with 
Conde and Turenne. The stout cavalier was second to no 
soldier in Louis’s splendid army ; was of the stamp of an 
earlier race even, better inured to hardship than any save 
that heroic prince, the Achilles of his day, who to the 
graces of a modern courtier joined the temper of an ancient 
Greek. 

His daughter Hyacinth had given him the utmost affec- 
tion which such a nature could give ; but it was the affec- 
tion of a trained singing-bird, .or a broken-nosed spaniel ; 
and the father, though he admired her beauty, and was 
pleased with her caresses, was shrewd enough to perceive 
the lightness of her disposition and the shallowness of her 
mind. He rejoiced in her marriage with a man of Fare- 
ham’s strong character. 

I have married thee to a husband who will know how 
to rule a wife,” he told her on the night of her wedding. 
‘^You have but to obey and to be happy; for he is rich 
enough to indulge all your fancies, and will not complain 
if you waste the gold that would pay a company of foot on 
the decoration of your poor little person.” 

The tone in which you speak of my poor little person, 
sir, can but remind me how much I need the tailor and 
the milliner,” answered Hyacinth, dropping her favorite 


420 When The World Was Younger. 

curtsey, which she was ever ready to practise at the slight- 
est provocation. 

Nay, petite chatte, you know I think you the loveliest 
creature at Saint Germain or the Louvre, far surpassing in 
beauty the Cardinahs niece, who has managed to set young 
Louisa’s heart throbbing with a boyish passion. But I 
doubt you bestow too much care to the cherishing of a 
gift so fleeting, 

You have said the word, sir. ^Tis because it is so fleet- 
ing I must needs take care of my beauty. We poor women 
are like the butterflies and the roses. We have as brief a 
summer. You men, who value us only for our outward 
show, should pardon some vanity in creatures so ephem- 
eral. 

Ephemeral scarce applies to a sex which owns such an 
example as your grandmother, who has lived to reckon her 
servants among the grandsons of her earliest lovers.'’^ 

Not lived, sir ! No woman lives after thirty. She can 
but exist, and dream that she is still admired. La mar- 
quise has been dead for the last twenty years, but shewonT 
own it. Ah, sir, c^est un triste supplice to have been ! I 
wonder how these poor ghosts can bear that earthly purga- 
tory which they call old age. Look at Madame de Sable, 
par exemple, once a beauty, now only a tradition ; and 
Queen Anne. Old people say she was beautiful, and that 
Buckingham risked being torn by wild horses — like Ea- 
vaillac — only to kiss her hand by stealth in a moonlit gar- 
den, and plunged England in war but for an excuse to come 
back to Paris. AYho would go to war for Anne’s haggard 
countenance nowadays ?” 

Even in Lady Eareham’s household the cavalier soon 
began to fancy himself an inhabitant too much ; a dull, 
gray figure out of a tragical past. He could not keep him- 
self from talking of the martyred king, and those bitter 
years through which he had followed his master’s sinking 


‘'Quite Out Of Fashion.” 


421 


fortunes. He told stories of York and of Beverley, of the 
scarcity of cash which reduced his Majesty^s Court to hut 
one table, of that bitter affront at Coventry, of the evil 
omens that had marked the raising of the standard and 
filled superstitious minds with dark forebodings, and re- 
minded old men of that sad shower of rain that fell when 
Charles was proclaimed at AYhitehall, on the day of his ac- 
cession, and of the shock of earthquake on his coronation 
day, of Edgehill and Lindsey^s death, of the profligate con- 
duct of the Cavalier regiments, and the steady, dogged 
force of their psalm-singing adversaries, of Queen Hen- 
riette^s courage, and beauty, and willfulness, and her fatal 
influence upon an adoring husband.” 

She wanted to be all that Buckingham had been,” said 
Sir John, forgetting that Buckingham was the king’s 
evil genius.” 

That lively and eminently artificial society of the Eue 
de Touraine soon wearied of Sir John’s reminiscences. 
King Charles’s execution had receded into the dim gray 
of history. He might as well have told them anecdotes of 
Cinq Mars, or of the Great Henri, or of Moses or Abra- 
ham. Life went on rapid wheels in patrician Paris. They 
had Cond6 to talk about, and Mazarin’s numerous nieces, 
and the opera, that new importation from Italy, which the 
cardinal was bringing into fashion ; while the remote past 
of half a dozen years back the Fronde was the only inter- 
esting subject, and even that was worn threadbare ; the 
adventures of the duchess, the conduct of the prince in 
prison, the intrigues of cardinal and queen, mademoiselle, 
yellow-haired Beaufort, duels of five against five — all— all 
ancient history as compared with young Louis and his 
passion for Marie de Mancini, and the scheming of her 
wily uncle to marry all his nieces to reigning princes or 
embryo kings. 

And then the affectations and conceits of that elegant 


422 


When The World Was Younger. 

circle, the sonnets and madrigals, the ^^honts-rimes,” the 
practical jokes, the logic- chopping and straw-splitting of 
those ultra-fine intellects, the romances where the person- ' 
ages of the day masqueraded under Greek or Eoman or 
Oriental aliases, books written in a fiowery language which 
the Cavalier did not understand, and full of allusions that 
were dark to him ; while not to know and appreciate those 
masterworks placed him outside the pale. 

He rejoiced in escaping from that overcharged atmos- 
phere to the tavern, to the camp, anywhere. He followed 
the exiled Stuarts in their wanderings, paid his homage to 
the Princess of Orange, roamed from scene to scene, a stran- 
ger and one too many wherever he went. 

Then came the hardest blow of all — the chilling disillu- 
sion that awaited all Charleses faithful friends, who were 
not of such political importance as to command their rec- 
ompense. Neglect and forgetfulness were Sir John Kirk- 
land’s portion, and for him and for such as he that caustic 
definition of the Act of Indemnity was a hard and cruel 
truth. It was an Act of Indemnity for the king’s enemies 
and of oblivion for his friends. Sir John’s spirits had 
hardly recovered from the bitterness of disappointed affec- 
tion when he came back to the old home, though his cha- 
grin was seven years old. But now in his delight at the 
alliance with Denzil Warner he seemed to have renewed 
his lease of cheerfulness and bodily vigor. He rode and 
walked about the lanes and woods with erect head and 
elastic limbs. He played bowls with Denzil in the summer 
evenings. He went fishing with his daughter and her 
sweetheart. He reveled in the simple rustic life, and told 
them stories of his boyhood, when James was king, and 
many a queer story of that eccentric monarch and of Buck- 
ingham. 

Ah, what a history that was ! ” he exclaimed. His 
mother trained him as if with a foreknowledge of that 


“Quite Out Of Fashion.” 


423 


star-like ascendancy. He was schooled to shine and dazzle, 
to excel all compeers in the graces men and women ad- 
mire. I doubt she never thought of the mind inside him, 
or cared whether he had a heart or a lump of marble be- 
hind his waist-band. He was taught neither to think nor 
to pity — only to shine ; to be quick with his tongue in half 
a dozen languages, with his sword after half a dozen modes 
of fence. He could kill his man in the French, or the 
Italian, or the Spanish manner. He was cosmopolitan in 
the knowledge of evil. He had every device that can make 
a man brilliant and dangerous. He mounted every rung 
of the ladder leaping from step to step. He ascended 
swift as a shooting star from plain country gentleman to 
the level of princes. And he expired with an ejaculation, 
astonished to find himself mortal, slain in a moment by 
the thrust of a tenpenny knife. I remember as if it 
were yesterday how men looked and spoke when the news 
came to London, and how some said this murder would be 
the saving of King Charles. I know of one man at least 
who was glad.” 

Who was he, sir ? ” asked Denzil. 

He who had the greatest mind among Englishmen — 
Thomas Wentworth. Buckingham had held him at a dis- 
tance from the king, and his strong passionate temper was 
seething with indignation at being kept aloof by that silken 
sybarite — an impotent general, a fatal counselor. After 
the favorite's death there came a time of peace and plenty. 
The pestilence had passed, the war was over. Charles was 
happy with his Henriette and their lovely children. W ent- 
worth was in Ireland. The parliament house stood still and 
empty, doors shut, swallows building under the eaves. I 
look back, and those placid years melt into each other like 
one long summer. And then, again, as 'twere yesterday, I 
hear Hampden's drums and fifes in the lanes, and see the 
rebel's flag with that hateful legend. Vestigia nulla retror- 


424 When The World Was Younger. 

sum, and Buckinghamshire peasants are under arms, and 
the king and his people have begun to hate and fear each 
other.'" 

None foresaw that the war would last so long or end ■ 
in murder, I doubt, sir," said Angela. ■ 

Nay, child ; we who were loyal thought to see that 
rabble withered by the breath of kingly nostrils. A word 
should have brought them to the dust. 

There might be so easy a victory, perhaps, sir, from a 
king who knew how to speak the right word at the right 
moment, how to comply graciously with a just demand, 
and how to be firm in a righteous denial," replied Denzil , 
but with Charles a stammering speech was but the out- 
ward expression of a wavering mind. He was a man who 
never listened to an appeal, but always yielded to a threat, 
were it only loud enough." 

The wedding was to be soon. Marriages were patched up 
quickly in the light-hearted sixties. And here there was 
nothing to wait for. Sir John had found Denzil compliant 
in every minor question, and willing to make his home at 
the Manor during his mother’s lifetime. 

The old lady would never stomach a Papist daughter- 
in-law," said Sir John ; and Denzil was fain to confess that 
Lady Warner would not easily reconcile herself with 
Angela’s creed, though she could not fail of loving Angela 
herself. 

My daughter would have neither peace nor liberty 
under a Puritan’s roof," Sir John said; ‘‘'and I should 
have neither son nor daughter, and should be a loser 
by my girl’s marriage. You shall be as much master 
here, Denzil, as if this were your own house — which it 
will be when I have moved to my last billet. Give me a 
couple of stalls for my roadsters and kennel room for my 
dogs, and I want no more. You and Angela may introduce 
as many new fashions as you like ; dine at two o’clock, and 



“Quite Out Of Fashion.” 


425 


sip your unwholesome Indian drink of an evening. The 
fine ladies in Paris were beginning to take tea when I 
was last there, though by the faces they made over the 
stuff it might have been poison. I can smoke my pipe 
in the chimney-corner, and look on and admire at the 
new generation. I shall not feel myself one too many at 
your fireside, as I used sometimes in the Eue de Tou- 
raine, when those strutting Gallic cocks were quizzing 
me.” 

There were clouds of dust and a clatter of hoofs again 
in front of the floriated iron gate ; but this time it was not 
the Honorable Henriette who came tripping along the 
gravel path on two-inch heels, but my Lady Fareham, who 
walked languidly, with the assistance of a gold-headed 
cane, and who looked pale and thin in her apple-green 
satin gown and silver-braided petticoat. 

She too came attended by a second coach, which was 
filled by her ladyship^s French waiting-woman, Mrs. Lewin, 
and a pile of boxes and parcels. 

1^11 wager that in the rapture and romance of your 
sweethearting you have not given a thought to petticoats 
and manteaux,” she said, after she had embraced her 
sister, who was horrified at the sight of that painted 
harridan from London. 

Angela blushed at those words, "'rapture and romance,” 
knowing how little there had been of either in her thoughts, 
or in DenziPs sober courtship. Komance ! Alas, there 
had been but one romance in her life, and that a guilty 
one, which she must ever remember with remorse. 

" Come, now, confess you have not a gown ordered.” 

" I have gowns enough and to spare. Oh, sister ! have 
you come so far to talk of gowns ? And that odious 
woman too! What brought her here?” Angela asked, 
with more temper than she was wont to show. 

" My sisterly kindness brought her. You are an un- 


426 When The World Was Younger. 

grateful hussy for looking vexed when I have come a score 
of miles through the dust to do you a service."’^ . ■ ] 

Ah, dearest, I am grateful to you for coming. But, 
alas, you are looking pale and thin. Heaven forbid that i 
you have been indisposed, and we in ignorance of your ; 
suffering. 

No, I am well enough, though every one assures me 
I look ill ; which is but a civil mode of telling me I am 
growing old and ugly.” 

Nay, Hyacinth, the former we must all become, with 
time ; the latter you will never be.” 

‘^‘^Your servant. Sir Denzil, has taught you to pay 
antique compliments. Well, now we will talk business. 

I have to send for Lewin — my toilet was in a horrid state 
of decay ; and then it seemed to me, knowing your foolish 
indifference, that even your wedding gown would not be 
chosen unless I saw to it. So here is Lewin with Lyons 
and Genoa silks of the very latest patterns. She has but 
just come from Paris, and is full of Parisian modes and 
court scandals. The king posted off to Versailles directly 
after his mother’s death, and has not returned to the 
Louvre since. He amuses himself by spending millions on 
building, and making passionate love to Mademoiselle la 
Valliere, who encourages him by pretending an excessive 
modesty, and exaggerates every favor by penitential tears. 

I doubt his attachment to so melancholy a mistress will 
hardly last a lifetime. She is not beautiful ; she has a 
halting gait ; and she is no more virtuous than any other 
young woman who makes a show of resistance to enhance 
the merit of her surrender. 

Hyacinth prattled all the way to the parlor, Mrs. Lewin 
and the waiting woman following, laden with parcels. 

"" Queer dear old hovel ! ” she exclaimed, sinking lan- 
guidly upon a tabouret, and fanning herself exhaustively, 
while the mantua-maker opened her boxes, and laid out 


“ Quite Out Of Fashion.” 


42; 


her sample breadths of richly decorated brocade, or silver 
and gold en wrought satin. How well I remember being 
whipped over my home-book in this very room. And 
there is the bowling green where I used to race the Italian 
greyhound my grandmother brought me from Paris. I 
look back, and it seems a dream of some other child run- 
ning about in the sunshine. It is so hard to believe that 
joyous little being — who knew not the meaning of heart- 
ache — was I.^^ 

Why that sigh, sister ? Surely none ever had less 
cause for heartache than you ? 

Have I not cause ? Hot when my glass tells me youth 
is gone, and beauty is waning ? Hot when there is no one 
in this wide world who cares a straw whether I am hand- 
some or hideous ? I would as lief be dead as despised and 
neglected." 

^^Sorella mia, questa te as colta," murmured Angela, 
^^come and look at the old gardens, sister, while Mrs. 
Lewin spreads out her wares. And pray consider, madam," 
turning to the mantua maker, that those peacock purples 
and gold embroideries have no temptations for me. I am 
marrying a country gentleman, and am to lead a coun- 
try life. My gowns must be such as will not be spoilt 
by a walk in dusty lanes, or a visit to a farm laborer's 
cottage." 

"‘Eh, gud, your ladyship, do not tell me that you would 
bury so much beauty among sheep and cows, and odious 
ploughmen's wives and dairy women. A month or so 
of rustic life in summer between Epsom and Tunbridge 
Wells may be well enough, to rest your beauty— without 
patches or a French head— out of sight of your admirers. 
But to live in the country ! Only a jealous husband could 
ever propose more than an annual six weeks of rustic seclu- 
sion to a wife under sixty. Lord Chesterfield was con- 
sidered as cruel for taking his countess to the rocks and 


428 


When The World Was Younger*. 



ravines of Derbyshire as Sir John Denham for poisoning 
his poor lady.^^ 

Chut ! tu vas nn pen trop loin, Lewin ! ” remonstrated 
Lady Fareham. 

But in truly, your ladyship, when I hear Mrs. Kirk- 
land talk of a husband who would have her waste her 
beauty upon clod-polls and dairy-maids, and never wear a 

mantua worth looking at 

I doubt my husband will be guided by his own likings 
rather than by Mrs. Lewin^s tastes and opinions, said 
Angela, with a stately curtsey, which was designed to put 
the forward tradeswoman in her place, and which took 
that personage’s breath away. 

There never was anything like the insolence of a 
handsome young woman before she was educated by 
a lover,” she said to her ladyship’s Frenchwoman, with 
a vindictive smile and scornful shrug of bloated shoulders, 
when the sisters had left the parlor. But wait till 
her first intrigue, and then it is ^ My dearest Lewin, wilt 
thou make me everlastingly beholden to thee by tak- 
ing this letter — thou knowest to whom ? ’ Or, in a flood 
of tears, ^ Lewin, you are my only friend — and if you 
cannot find me some good and serviceable woman who 
would give me a home where I can hide from the cruel 
eye of the world, I must take poison.’ Ko insolence, then, 
mark you, Madame Hortense. Jaycolafeel doon doochess 
dongla pooshare a may pee-ays, Ong ploor, ong m’offre 
day diamonds, dong valoor innooay.” 

This plunge into a foreign tongue was unnecessary, as 
Hortense understood English as well as Mrs. Lewin did. 

This demoiselle is none of your sort,” she said. You 
must not judge English ladies by your maids of honor. 
Celles la sont des drolesses, sans foi ne loi.” 

Well, if she thinks I am going to make up linsey 
woolsey, or Norwich drugget, she will find her mistake. 


“Quite Out Of Fashion.’* 


429 


; I neyei* courted the custom of little gentlemen^s wives, 

; with a hundred a year for pin-money. If I am to do any- 
j thing for this stuck-up peacock. Lady Eareham must give 
i me the order. I am no servant of Madam Kirkland. 

Alone in the garden, the sisters embraced again. Lady 
: Fareham, with a fretful tearfulness, as one whose over- 
strung nerves were on the verge of hysteria. 

There is something that preys upon your spirits, dear- 
est,’^ Angela said interrogatively. 

Something ? A hundred things. I am at cross pur- 
poses with life. But I should have been worse had you 
been obstinate, and still refused this gentleman.^’ 

Why should that affect you. Hyacinth ? asked her 
sister, with a sudden coldness. 

Chi lo sa ? One has fancies ! But my dearest sister 
has been wise in good time, and you will be the happiest 
wife in England ; for I believe your Puritan is a saintly 
person, the very opposite of our court sparks, who are the 
most incorrigible villains. Ah, sweet, if you heard the 
stories Lewin tells me — even of that young Eochester — 
scarce out of his teens. And the duke — not a jot better 
than the king — and with so much less grace in his iniquity. 
Well, you will be married at the Chapel Eoyal, and spend 
I your wedding night at Fareham House. We will have a 
[ great supper. His Majesty will come, of course. He 
[ owes us that much civility.'' 

I ‘^"Hyacinth, if you would make me happy, let me be 
[ married in my mother's oratory, by your chaplain. Sure, 
f dearest, you know I have never taken kindly to court 
] splendors." 

Have you not ? Why, you shone and sparkled like a 
I star, that last night you were ever at Whitehall, Henri 
I sitting close beside you. 'Twas the night he took ill of a 
i fever. Was it a fever ? I have wondered sometimes 


430 When The World Was Younger. 

whether there was not a mystery of attempted murder be- 
hind that long sickness. 

Murder ! ” 

deadly duel with a man who hated him. Is not 
that an attempt at murder on the part of him who delib- 
erately provokes the quarrel ? Well, it is past, and he is 
gone. For all the color of the world I live in, there might 
never have been any such person as Henri de Malfort."’"’ 

Her airy laugh ended in a sob, which she tried to stifle, 
but could not. 

Hyacinth, Hyacinth, why will you persist in being 
miserable when you have so little cause for sadness ? 

Have I not cause ? Am I not growing old, and robbed 
of the only friend who brought gayety into my life ; who 
understood my thoughts and valued me. A traitor, I 
know — like the rest of them. They are all traitors. But 
he would have been true had I been kinder, and trusted 
him.” 

^‘'Hyacinth, you are mad ! Would you have had him 
more your friend ? He was too near as it was. Every 
thought you gave him was an offense against your husband. 
Would you have sunk as low as those shameless women 
the king admires ? ” 

Sunk — low ? Why, those women are on a pinnacle of 
fame — courted — flattered — poetized — painted. They will 
be famous for centuries after you and I are forgotten. 
There is no such a thing as shame nowadays, except that 
it is shameful to have done nothing to be ashamed of. I 
have wasted my life, Angela. There was not a woman at 
the Louvre who had my complexion, nor one who could 
walk a coranto with more grace. Yet I have consented to 
be a nobody at two courts. And now I am growing old, 
and my poor painted face shocks me when I chance on my 
reflection by daylight ; and there is nothing left for me — ■ 
nothing.” 


“ Quite Out Of Fashion. 


431 


Your husband, sister ! 

Sister, do not mock me ! You know how much Fare- 
ham is to me. We were chosen for each other, and fancied 
we were in love for the first few years, while he was so 
often called away from me, that his coming back made a 
festival, and renewed affection. He came crimson from 
battles and sieges, and I was proud of him, and called him 
my hero. But after the treaty of the Pyrenees our passion 
cooled, and he grew too much the schoolmaster. And 
when he recovered of the contagion, he had recovered of 
any love-sickness he ever had for me ! 

‘ ‘ Ah, sister, you say these things without thinking 
them. His lordship needs but some sign of affection on 
your part to be as devoted as ever he was.^^ 

You can answer for him, Fll warrant. 

^^And there are other claims upon your love, your 
children. 

‘^Henriette, who is nearly as tall as lam, and thinks 
herself handsomer and cleverer than ever I was. George, 
who is a lump of selfishness, and cares more for his ponies 
and peregrines than for father and mother. I tell you 
there is nothing left for me ; except fine houses and 
and carriages ; and to show my fading beauty dressed in 
in the latest mode at twilight in the rings, and to startle 
people from the thought of my wrinkles by the boldness 
of my patches. I was the first to wear a coach and horses 
across my forehead — in London at least. They had these 
follies in Paris three years ago.^^ 

Indeed, dearest ?" 

And thou wilt let me arrange thy wedding after my 
own fancy, wilt thou not, ma tres chere ? 

You forget DenziFs hatred of finery."^ 

But the wedding is the bride^s festival. The bride- 
groom hardly counts. Hay, love, you need fear no im- 
modest fooling when you bid good-night to the company. 


43^ When The World Was Youngei*. 

nor shall there be any scuffling for garters at the door of 
your chamber. There was nothing of that when Lady 
Sandwich married her daughter. All vulgar fashions of 
coarse old Oliver's day have gone to the ragbag of wornout 
English customs. We were so coarse a nation, till we 
learnt manners in exile. Let me have my own way, 
dearest. It will amuse me, and wean me from melancholic 
fancies." 

^"Then, indeed, love, thou shalt have thy way in all 
particulars." 

After this Lady Fareham was in haste to return to the 
house in order to choose the wedding-gown ; and here in 
the paneled parlor they found the two gentlemen, with 
the dust of the road and the warmth of the noonday sun 
upon them, newly returned from Aylesbury, where they 
had ridden in the freshness of the early morning to choose 
a team of plough horses at the fair ; and who were more 
disconcerted than gratified at finding the dinner parlor 
usurped by Mrs. Lewin, Madame Hortense, and an array 
of finery that made the room look like a stall in the Ex- 
change. 

It was on the stroke of one, yet there were no signs of 
dinner. Sir John and Sir Denzil were both sharp set 
after their ride, and were looking by no means kindly on 
Mrs. Lewin and her wares when Hyacinth and Angela 
appeared upon the scene. 

^'Nothing could happen luckier," said Lady Fareham, 
when she had saluted Denzil, and embraced her father 
with Pish, sir ! how you smell of clover and new mown 
grass ! I vow you have smothered my mantua with dust." 

Father and sweetheart were called upon to assist in 
choosing the wedding-gown — a somewhat empty com- 
pliment on the part of Lady Fareham, since she would 
not hear of the simple canary brocade which Denzil se- 
lected, and which Mrs. Lewin protested was only good 


Quite Out Of Fashion.” 


433 


enough to make his lady a bed-gown, or of the pale gray 
atlas which her father considered suitable — since, indeed, 
she would have nothing but a white satin, powdered with 
silver fleur de luces, which she remarked, en passant, 
would have become the grande mademoiselle, had she but 
obtained her cousin^s permission to cast herself away on 
Lauzun. 

Dear sister, can you consider a fabric fit for a Bourbon 
princess a becoming gown for me ? ” remonstrated Angela. 

‘^^Yes, child, white and silver will better become thee 
than poor Louise, who has no more complexion left than I 
have. She was in her heyday when she held the Bastille, 
and when she and Beaufort were two of the most popular 
people in Paris. She has made herself a laughing-stock 
since then. That is settled, Lewin,” with a nod to the 
milliner, ‘'‘‘the silver fieur de luces for the wedding man- 
tua. And now be quick with your samples. 

All Angela’s remonstrances were as vain to-day as they 
had been on the occasion of her first acquaintance with 
Mrs. Lewin. The excitement of discussing and selecting 
the finery she loved affected Lady Fareham’s spirits like 
a draught of saumur. She was generous by nature, ex- 
travagant by long habit. 

Sure it would be a hard thing if I could not give you 
your wedding-clothes when you are marrying the man 
I chose for you,” she protested. The cherry-colored 
farradine, by all means, Lewin ; ’tis the very shade for 
my sister’s fair skin. Indeed, Denzil,” nodding at him, 
as he stood watching them, with that hopelessly bewildered 
air of a man in a milliner’s shop, I have been your best 
friend from the beginning, and, but for me, you might 
never have won your sweetheart to listen to you. Maza- 
rine hoods are as ancient as the pyramids, Lewin. You 
must show us something newer.” 

It was late in the evening when the two coaches left the 

28 


434 


When The World Was Younger. 


Manor gate. Hyacinth had been in no haste to return to 
the Abbey. There was nobody there who wanted her, she 
protested, and there would be a moon after nine o^clock, 
and she had servants enough to take care of her on the 
road ; so Mrs. Lewin and her ladysbip^s woman were 
entertained in the steward's room, where Reuben held 
forth upon the splendor that had prevailed in his master’s 
house before the troubles — and where the mantua-maker 
ate and drank all she could get, and dozed and yawned 
through the old man’s reminiscences. 

The afternoon was spent more pleasantly by the quality, 
who sat about in the sunny garden, or sauntered by the 
the fish pond and fed the carp — and took a dish of the 
Indian drink which the sisters loved, in the pergola at the 
end of the grass-walk. 

Hyacinth now aHected a passion for the country, and 
quoted the late Mr. Cowley in praise of rusticity. 

Oh, how delicious is this woodland valley,” she cried. 

“ ‘ Here let me, careless and imthoughtful lying, 

Hear the soft winds, above me plying. 

With all their wanton boughs dispute.’ 

Poor Cowley, he might well love the country, for he was 
shamefully treated in town — a devoted slave to bankrupt 
royalty for all the best years of his life, and fobbed off with 
a compliment when the king came into power. Ah me, 
’tis an ill world we live in, and London is the most hateful 
spot in it,” she concluded, with a sigh. 

^^And yet you will have me married nowhere else, 
sister ? ” 

Oh, for a wedding or a christening one must have a 
crowd of fine people. It would go about that Lady Fare- 
ham was quite out of fashion if I were content to see only 
ploughmen and dairymaids, and a pretty gentleman or two 
with their ill-dressed wives, at my sister’s marriage. Lon- 


‘‘Quite Out Of Fashion.” 435 

don is the only decent place — after Paris — to live in ; but 
the country is apeacefuller place in which to die.” 

A heart-breaking sigh emphasized the sentence, and 
Angela scrutinized her sister’s face with increased concern. 

Dear love, I fear you are hiding something from me ; 
and that you are seriously indisposed,” she said, earnestly. 

“ If I am I do not know it. But when one is weary of 
living there is only one sensible thing left to do — if Provi- 
dence will but be kind and help one to do it. I am not 
for dagger or poison, or for a plunge in deep water. But 
to fade away in a gentle disease — a quiet ebbing of the 
vital stream — is the luckiest thing that can befall one who 
is tired of life.” 

Alarmed at hearing her. sister talk in this melancholy 
strain, and still more alarmed by the change in her looks, 
sunken cheeks, hectic flush, fever-bright eyes, Angela en- 
treated Lady Fareham to stay at the Manor, and be nursed 
and cared for. 

“ Oh, I know your skill in nursing, and your power over 
a sick person. Hyacinth interjected scornfully, and then 
in the next moment apologized for the little spurt of re- 
trospective jealousy. 

“ Stay with us, love, and let us make you happier than 
you are at Chilton,” pleaded Angela ; but Hyacinth, who 
had been protesting that nobody wanted her, now declared 
that she could not leave home, and recited a list of duties, 
social and domestic. 

I shall not have half an hour to spare until I go 
to London next week to prepare for the wedding,” she 
said. 

The date had been fixed while they sat at dinner ; Sir 
John and his elder daughter settling the day, while Denzil 
assented with radiant smiles, and Angela sat by in pale 
silence, submissive to the will of others. They were to be 
married on a Thursday, the 19 th July, and it was now the 


43^ When The World Was Younger. 

end of June. Little more than a fortnight's interval in 
which to meditate upon the beginning of a new life. 

Mrs. Lewin had promised the white and silver mantua, 
and as many of the new clothes as a supernatural address, 
industry, and obligingness, could produce within the time. 
Hyacinth grew more lively after supper, and parted from 
her father and sister in excellent spirits ; but her haggard 
face haunted Angela in troubled dreams all that night, 
and she thought of her with anxiety during the next few 
days, and most of all upon one long sultry day, the 4th of 
July, which was the third day she had spent in unbroken 
solitude since her father and Denzil had ridden away in 
the dim early morning, while the pastures were veiled in 
summer haze, on the first stage of a journey to London, 
hoping with a long rest between noon and evening, to ride 
thirty-seven miles bfefore night. 

They were to consult with a learned London lawyer, 
and to execute the marriage settlement. Sir John vastly 
anxious about this business, in his ignorance of law and 
distrust of lawyers. They were to stay in London only 
long enough to transact their business, and would then re- 
turn post-haste to the Manor ; but as they were to ride 
their own horses all the way, and as lawyers are notoriously 
slow, Angela had been told not to expect them till the 
fourth evening after their departure. 

In her lonely rambles that long summer day, with her 
spaniel Ganymede, and her father^s favorite pointer for her 
only companions, Angela^s thoughts dwelt ever on the past. 
Of the future — even that so near future of her marriage — 
she thought hardly at all. That future had been disposed 
of by others. Her fate had been settled for her ; and she 
was told that by her submission she would make those she 
loved happy. Her father would have the son he longed 
for, and would be sure of her faithful devotion till the end 
of his days — or of hers, should untimely death intervene ; 


“ Quite Out Of Fashion.” 


437 


Hyacinth^s foolish jealousy would be dispelled by the act 
which gave her sisteFs honor into a liusband^s custody. 
And for him, that presumptuous lover who had taken so 
little pains to hide his wicked passion, if in any audacious 
hour he had dared to believe her guilty of reciprocating 
his love, that insolent suspicion would be answered at once 
and forever by her marriage with Denzil — Denzil, who 
was Fareham^’s junior by fifteen years, his superior in every 
advantage of person, as she told herself with a bitter smile ; 
for even w'hile she thought of that superiority — the statu- 
esque regularity of feature, the clear coloring of a complex- 
ion warmed with the glow of health, the deep blue of 
large well-opened eyes, the light free carriage of one who 
had led an active country life — even while she thought of 
Denzil, another face and figure fiashed upon her memory — 
rugged and dark, the forehead deeper lined than years- 
justified, the proud eye made somber by the shadow of the 
projecting brow, the cheek sunken, the shoulders bent as 
if under the burden of melancholy thoughts. 

Oh God ! this was the face she loved. The only face 
that had ever touched the springs of joy and pain. It was 
nearly half a year since she had seen him. Their meetings 
in the future need be of the rarest. She knew that Denzil 
regarded him with a distrust which made friendship out 
of the question ; and it would be her duty to keep far aloof 
from that old time as possible. Family meetings there must 
be, considering the short distance between Chilton and 
the Manor, feastings and junketings in company once or 
twice in a summer, lest it should be thought Sir John and 
his lordship were ill friends. But Angela knew that in 
any such social gathering, sitting at the overloaded board, 
amid the steam of rich viands, and the noise of many 
voices, she and Fareham would be as far apart as if the 
Indian Ocean rolled between them. 

Once, and very soon, they must meet face to face ; and 


438 When The World Was Younger. 

he would take her hand in greeting, and would kiss her 
on the lips as she stood before him in her wedding finery, 
that splendor of white and silver which would provoke him 
to scornful wonder at her trivial pleasure in sumptuous 
clothes. Thus once they must meet. Her heart thrilled 
at the thought. He had so often shunned her, taking such 
obvious trouble to keep his distance ; but he could hardly 
absent himself from her wedding. The scandal would be 
too great. 

Well, she had accepted her fate, and this dull aching 
misery must be lived through somehow ; and neither her 
father nor Denzil must ever have occasion to suspect her 
unhappiness. 

Oh, gracious Mary, mother of God, help and sustain 
me in my sorrow ! Guard and deliver me from sinful 
thought. What are my fanciful griefs to thy great sor- 
rows, which thou didst endure with holy patience ? Sub- 
due and bend me to obedience and humility. Let me be 
an affectionate daughter, a dutiful wife, a friend and com- 
forter to my poor neighbors. 

So, and with many such prayers she struggled against 
the dominion of evil ; kneeling meekly in the leafy still- 
ness of that deep beachwood, where no human eye beheld 
her devotions. So in the long solitude of the summer day 
she held commune with Heaven, and fought against that 
ever-recurring memory of past happiness, that looking 
back to the joys and emotions of those placid hours at 
Chilton Abbey before the faintest apprehension of evil had 
shadowed her friendship with Fareham. Not to look 
back ; not to remember and regret. That was the struggle 
in which the intense abstraction of the believer, lifting 
the mind to heaven, alone could help her. Long and 
fervent were her prayers in that woodland sanctuary where 
she made her pious retreat ; nor was her sister forgotten 
in those prayers, which included much earnest supplication 


“Quite Out Of Fashion.” 


439 


for the welfare here and hereafter of that lighter nature, 
towards which she had ever felt a protecting and almost 
maternal love. Years counted for very little in the rela- 
tions between these sisters. 

The day wore to its close — the most solemn day in An- 
gela^’s life since that which she had spent in the Reverend 
Mother^s death-chamber, kneeling in the faint yellow glow 
of the tall wax-candles, in a room from which daylight 
was excluded. She remembered the detachment of lier 
mind from all earthly interests as she knelt beside that 
death-bed, and how easily her thoughts had mounted 
heavenward ; while now her love clung guilty to this sinful 
earth. How had she changed for the worse, how was she 
sunk from the holy aspirations of that time ! 

Angela had eaten her lonely supper, and was sitting at 
her embroidery frame between nine and ten, while the 
sounds of bolts and bars in the hall and corridors, and old 
Reuben^s voice hectoring the maids, told her that the ser- 
vants were closing the house before going to bed. Reuben 
would be coming to her presently no doubt, to remind her 
of the lateness of the hour, wanting to carry her candle to 
her chamber, and as it were to see her safely disposed of 
before he went to his garret. She meant, on this occasion, 
to resist his friendly tyranny, having so little inclination 
for sleep, and hoping to find peace of mind and distraction 
in this elaborate embroidery of gold thread and many col- 
ored silks, which was destined to adorn her father's person 
on the facing of a new-fashioned doublet. 

Suddenly, as she bent over the candle to scrutinize the 
shading of her silks, the hollow sound of hoofs broke upon 
the silence, and in a minute afterwards a bell rang loudly. 

Who could it be at such an hour ? Her father, no 
doubt ; no one else. He had hurried his business through, 
and returned a day earlier than he had hoped. Or could 
it be that he had fallen sick in London, and Denzil had 


440 When The World Was Younger. 

come to tell her ill news ? Or was it a messenger from her 
sister ? She had time to contemplate several evil contin- 
gencies while she stood in the hall watching Reuben with- 
draw various bolts and bars. 

The door swung back at last, and she saw a man in high 
riding-boots and slouched hat standing on the threshold, 
while in the moonlight behind him she could distinguish 
a mounted groom holding the bridle of a led horse, as 
well as the horse from which the visitor had just dis- 
mounted. 

The face that looked at her from the doorway was the 
face which had haunted her with cruel persistency through 
that long day, chaining her thoughts to the earth. 

Fareham stood looking at her for a few moments, 
deadly pale, while she was collecting her senses, trying to 
understand this most unlooked-for presence. Why was he 
here ? Ah, no doubt, a messenger of evil. 

Oh, sir, my sister is ill ! she cried ; 1 read sorrow 

in your face — seriously ill — dangerously ? Speak, my 
lord, for pity’s sake ! ” 

Yes, she is ill.” 

^^Not dead?” 

^^No, no.” 

But very ill ? Oh, I feared, I feared when I saw her 
that there was something amiss. Has she sent you to 
to fetch me ? ” 

Yes, you are wanted.” 

Reuben, I must set out this instant. Order the coach 
to be got ready. And Betty must go with me.” 

You will need no coach, Angela. Nor is there time to 
spare for any such creeping conveyance. I have brought 
Zephyr. You remember how you loved him. He is 
swift, and gentle as the wind after which we named him ; 
sure of foot, easy to ride. The roads are good after yes- 
terday’s rain, and the moon will last us most of our way. 


441 


! ‘‘Quite Out Of Fashion/' 

I We shall be at Chilton in two hours. Put on your coat 
and hat. Indeed^, there is no time to be lost. '' 

Do you mean that she may die before I can reach 
her 

I know not,” stamping his foot impatiently. ^^Fate 
holds the keys. But you had best waste no time on ques- 
tions.” 

His manner was one of command, and he seemed to ap- 
prehend no possibility of hesitation on her part. Keuben 
ran to his pantry, and came back with a tankard and wine, 
which he offered to the visitor with tremulous respect, 
almost ready to kneel. 

“ Our best Burgundy, my lord. Your lordship must be 
dry after your long ride ; and if your lordship would care 
to sup, there is good picking on last Monday's chine, and 
a capon from madame's supper scarce touched with the 
carving-knife.” 

“^^’othing, I thank you, friend. There is no time for 
gluttony.” 

! Eeuben, pressing the tankard upon him, he drank some 
j Wine with an automatic air, and still stood with his 
' eyes fixed on Angela's pallid countenance, waiting her 
decision. 

“ Are you coming ? ” he asked. 

Does she want me ? Has she asked for me ? Oh, for 
God's sake, my lord, tell me more. Is she dangerously 
ill ? Have the doctors given her over ? ” 

“ Ho. But she is in a bad way. And you — you — you 
— are wanted. Will you come ? Ay or no ? ” 

Yes. It is my duty to go to her. But when my father 
and Denzil come back to-morrow, Eeuben must be able to 
tell them why I went ; and the nature of my sister's illness. 
Were it not so serious that there is no time for hesitation, 
it would ill become me to leave this house in my father's 
absence/^ 


442 When The World Was Younger. 

He gave his head a curious jerk at Denziks name, as if 
he had been stung — 

Yes, I will explain : I can make all clear to this 
gentleman here while you put on your cloak. Bring the 
black to the door, he called to his man. 

^^Will not your lordship bait your horses before you 
start ? ” Eeuben asked deferentially. 

^^No time, fellow. There is no time. How often must 
I tell you so ? retorted Fareham. 

Eeuben^s village breeding had given him an exaggerated 
respect for aristocracy. He had grown up in the midst of 
small country gentlemen, rural squires, among whom the 
man with three thousand a year in land was a magnate, 
and there had never been more than one nobleman within 
a day^s ride of the Manor Moat. To Eeuben, therefore, a 
peer was like a god ; and he would have no more ques- 
tioned Lord Fareham^s will than a disciple of Hobbes 
would have imputed injustice to kings. 

Angela returned in a few minutes, having changed her 
silken gown for a neat cloth riding-skirt and close-fitting 
hood, and she carried nothing with her, being assured that 
her sisteFs wardrobe would be at her disposal, and having 
no mind to spend a minute more in preparation than was 
absolutely necessary. Brief as her toilet was, she had time 
to consider Lord Fareham^s countenance and manner, the 
cold distance of his address, and to scorn herself for hav- 
ing thought of him in her reveries that day as loving her 
always and till death. It was far better so. The abyss 
that parted them could not yawn too wide. She put a 
stern restraint upon herself so that there should be nothing 
hysterical in her manner, lest her fears about her sister’s 
health should be mistaken for agitation at his presence. 
She stood beside the horse, straight and firm, with her 
hand on the pommel, and sprang lightly into the saddle 
as Fareham’s strong arm lifted her. Yet she could but 


“Quite Out Of Fashion.” 443 

notice that his hand shook as he gave her the bridle and 
arranged the cloth petticoat over her foot. 

Not a word was spoken on either side as they rode out 
at the gate and through the village of St. Nicholas, beauti- 
ful in the moonlight. Such low white walls and deeply 
sloping thatched roofs of cottages squatting in a tangle of 
garden and orchard ; such curious lines of old brick gables 
in the better class houses of miller, butcher, and general 
dealer ; orchards and gardens and farm buildings, with 
every variety of thatch and eaves, huddled together in pic- 
turesque confusion : large spaces everywhere — pond, and 
village green, and common, and copse beyond ; a peace- 
ful, prosperous settlement, which had passed unharmed 
through the ordeal of the civil war, safe in its lowly seclu- 
sion. Not a word was spoken even when the village was 
left behind and they were riding on the lonely road, in so 
brilliant a moonlight that Angela could see every line in 
her companion's brooding face. 

Why was he so gloomy and so unkind in an hour when 
his sympathy should naturally have been given to her ? 
Was he possessed with sorrow for his wife’s indisposition, 
and did anxiety make him silent ; or was he angry with 
himself for not being as deeply distressed as a husband 
ought to be at a wife’s peril ? She knew too well how he 
and Hyacinth had been growing further apart day by day, 
till the only link between husband and wife seemed to be a 
decent courtesy and subservience to the world’s opinion. 

She recalled that other occasion when they two had made 
a solitary journey together, and in as gloomy a silence — 
that night of the fire, when he had fiung off his doublet 
and taken the sculls out of her hands, and rowed steadily 
and fast, with his eyes on the ground, leaving her to steer 
the boat as she would, or trusting to the lateness of the 
hour for a clear course. He had seemed to hate her that 
night just as he seemed to hate her now, as they rode mile 


444 


When The World Was Younger. 


after mile side by side, the groom following near, now at a 
fast trot, now galloping along a stretch of waste grass that 
bordered the highway, now breathing their horses in a 
walk. 

In one of those intervals he asked her if she were tired. 
No, no. I have no power to feel anything but anxiety. 
If you would only be kinder, and tell me more about my 
sister ! I fear you consider her in danger. 

Yes, she is in danger, there is no doubt of that.'’^ 

Oh, God ! she looked so ill when I saw her last, and 
she talked so wildly. I feared she was in a bad way. How 
soon shall we be at Chilton, my lord ? 

My lord ! Why do you ^ my lord' me ? " 

^^I can find no other name. We seem to be strangers 
to-night ; but, indeed, names and ceremonies matter noth- 
ing when the mind is in trouble. How soon shall we reach 
the Abbey Fareham ? " 

In an hour, at least Angela." 

His voice trembled as he spoke her name, and all of force 
and passion that could be breathed into a single word was 
in his utterance. She flushed at the sound, and looked at 
him with a sudden fear ; but his countenance might have 
been wrought-iron, so cold and passionless and cruelly 
resolute looked that rough-hewn face in the moonlight. 

I have afresh horse waiting for you at Thame," he 
said. I will not have you wearied by riding a tired horse ; 
and we are within five minutes of the inn. Will you rest 
there for half an hour, and take some refreshment ? " 
""Eest, when my sister may be dying ! Not a moment 
more than is needed to change horses." 

I have brought Queen Bess, another of your favorites. 
'Twas she who taught you to ride. She will know your 
voice and your light hand upon her bridle." 

They found the inn wrapped in slumber, like every house 
or cottage they had passed ; but a lantern shone within an 


“Quite Out Of Fashion.” 


445 


open door in the quadrangle round which house and stables 
were built. One of the Fareham grooms was there, with 
an ostler to wait upon him, and three horses were brought 
out of their stable, ready saddled, as the travelers rode 
under the archway into the yard. 

The mare was excited at finding herself on the road in 
the clear cool night, with the moonlight in her eyes, and 
was gayer than Fareham liked to see her under so precious 
a load ; but Angela was no longer the novice by whose side 
he had ridden nearly two years before. She handled Queen 
Bess firmly, and soon settled her into a sharp trot, and kept 
her at it for nearly three miles. The hour Fareham had 
spoken of was not exceeded by many minutes when Chilton 
Abbey came in sight, the gray stone walls pale in the 
moonlight. All things — the long park wall, the pillared 
gates, the open spaces of the park, the depth of shadow 
where the old oaks and beeches spread wide and dark, had 
a look of unreality which contrasted curiously with the 
scene as she had last beheld it in all its daylight verdure 
and homeliness. 

She dropped lightly from her horse, so soon as they drew 
rein at an angle of the long irregular house, where there 
was a door, half hidden under ivy, by which Lord Fareham 
went in and out much oftener than by the principal en- 
trance. It opened into a passage that led straight to the 
library, where there was a lamp burning to-night. Angela 
saw the light in the window as they rode past. 

He opened the door, which had been left on the latch, 
and nodded a dismissal to the groom, who went off to the 
stables, leading their horses. All was dark in the passage 
— dark and strangely silent ; but this wing was remote 
from the chief apartments and from the servants^ offices. 

‘ Will you take me to my sister at once ? ” Angela asked, 
stopping on the threshold of the library, when Fareham 
had opened the door. 


44^ When The World Was Younger. 

A lamp upon the tall mantel-piece feebly lighted the 
long low room, gloomy with the darkness of old oak wains- 
cot and a heavily timbered ceiling. There were two flasks 
of wine upon a silver salver, and provisions for a supper, 
and a fire was burning on the hearth. 

You had better warm yourself after your night ride, 
and eat and drink something before you see her.^^ 

No, no. What, after riding as fast as our horses could 
carry us ! I must go to her this moment. Can you find 
me a candle ? — looking about her hurriedly as she spoke. 

But, indeed, it is no matter ; I know my way to her 
room in the dark, and there will be light enough from the 
great window. 

Stop ! he cried, seizing her arm as she was leaving the 
room ; stop ! dragging her back and shutting the door 
violently. Your sister is not there. 

Great God ! What do you mean ? You told me your 
wife was here — ill — dying perhaps." 

I told you a lie, sweetheart ; but desperate men will 
do desperate things." 

Where is my sister ? Is she dead ? " 

Not unless the Nemesis that waits on women^s folly 
has been swifter of foot than common. I have no wife, 
Angela ; and you have no sister that you will ever care to 
own. My Lady Fareham has crossed the narrow sea with 
her lover, Henri de Malf ort — her paramour always — though 
I once thought him yours, and tried to kill him for your 
sake." 

A runaway wife ! Hyacinth ! Great God ! " She 
clasped her hands before her face in an agony of shame 
and despair, falling upon her knees, her head drooping till 
her brow almost touched the ground. And then, after but 
a few moments of this deep humiliation, she started to her 
feet with a cry of anger. ""Liar ! villain ! despicable, 
devilish villain ! This is a lie, like the other — a wicked 


“Quite Out Of Fashion.’* 


447 


lie ! Your wife — your wife a wanton ? My sister ? My 
life upon it, she is in London — in your house, busy prepar- 
ing for my marriage. Unlock that door, my lord ; let me 
go this instant — back to my father ! Oh, that I could be 
so mad as to leave his protection at your bidding ! Open 
the door, sir, I command you ! ” 

She seemed to gain in height, and to be taller than he 
had thought her — he who had so watched her, and whose 
memory held every line of that slender, graceful figure. 
She stood straight as an arrow, looking at him with set 
lips and flaming eyes, too angry to be afraid, trembling, 
but with indignation, not fear of him. 

^^Nay, child,^^ he said gravely, I have got you, and I 
mean to keep you. But you have trusted yourself to my 
hospitality, and you are as safe in my house as in a sanc- 
tuary. I may be a villain, but I am not a ruffian. If I 
had brought you here by a trick, you are as much mistress 
of your life and fate under this roof as you ever were in 
your fathers house. 

I have but one thing to say, sir. Let me out of this 
hateful house. 

What then ? Would you walk back to the Manor alone, 
through the night — alone ? 

I would crawl there on my hands and knees if I could 
not walk ; anything to get away from you. Oh, the base- 
ness of it. To vilify my sister — for your own base pur- 
poses. Intolerable villain ! 

Mistress, we will soon put an end to that charge. Lies 
there have been, but that is none. ’Tis you are the slan- 
derer there. 

He took a letter from the pocket of his doublet, and 
handed it to her. Then he took the lamp from the mantel- 
shelf and held it while she read. 

Alas, it was her sister's hand. She knew those hurried 
characters too well. The letter was blotted with ink and 


448 When The World Was Younger. 

smeared as with tears. Angela^s tears began to rain upon 
the page as she read :■ 

I have tried to be a good woman and a true wife to 
you, tried hard for these many years, knowing all the time 
that you left off loving me, and but for the shame of it 
would have cared little, though I had as many lovers as a 
maid of honor. You made life harder for me in this 
year last past by your passion for my sister, which mystery 
of yours, silent and secret as you were, these eyes must 
have been blind not to discover. 

And while you were cold in manner and cruel of speech 
- — slighting me ever — there was one who loved and praised 
me, one whose value I knew not till he left this country, 
and I found myself desolate without him. 

He has come back. He too has found that I was the 
other half of his mind ; and that he could taste no pleasure 
in life unshared by me. He has come to claim one who 
ever loved him, and who denied him only for virtue’s sake. 
Virtue ! Poor fool that I was to count that a woman’s 
noblest quality. Why, of all attributes, it is that the 
world least values. Virtue ! when the starched Due de 
Man tausier fawns upon Louise de la Valli^re, when Barbara 
Palmer is de facto Queen of England. Virtue ! 

Farewell! Forget me, Eareliam, as I shall try to 
forget you. I shall be in Paris perhaps before you receive 
this letter. My house in the Kue de Touraine is ready 
for me. I shall dishonor you by no open scandal. The 
man I love will but rank as the friend I most value, and 
my other friends will ask no questions so long as you are 
silent, and do not seek to disgrace me. Indeed, it were 
an ill thing to pursue me with your anger ; the more so as 
I am weak and ailing, and may not live long to enjoy an 
Indian summer of happiness. You have given me so little 
love that you should in common justice spare me your hate. 


“Quite Out Of Fashion.’* 


449 


“ I leave you your children^ whom you have affected to 
love better than I ; and who have shown so little consider- 
ation for me that I shall not miss tliern.^^ 

What think you of that, Angela, for the letter of a 
she-cynic ? 

It is blotted with her tears. She wrote in sorrow, 
despairing of your love.^^ 

She managed to exist for a round dozen years without 
my love — or doubting it — so long as she had her cavalier 
servente. It was only when he deserted her that she 
found life a burden. And now she has crossed the Eubicon. 
,She belongs to her age — the age of Kings'’ mistresses and 
light women. And she will be happy, I dare swear, as 
they are. It is not an age of tears. And when the fair 
Louise ran away to her convent the other day, in a passion 
of penitence, be sure she only went on purpose to be brought 
back again. But now, sweet, say have I lied to you about 
the lady who was once my wife ? ” he asked, pointing to 
the letter in her hand. 

And who is my sister to the end of time ; my sister in 
eternity, in purgatory or in Paradise. I cannot cast her off, 
though you may. I will set out for Paris to-morrow, and 
bring her home, if I can, to the Manor. She need trouble 
you no more. My husband and I can shelter and pity her. 

Your husband ! 

He will be my husband a fortnight hence. 

Never ! Never, while I live to fling my body between 
you at the altar. His blood or mine should choke your 
marriage vows. Angela, Angela, be reasonable. I have 
brought you out of that trap. I have cut the net in 
which they had caught you. My love, you are free, and I 
am free, and you belong to me. You never loved Denzil 
Warner, never would love him, were you to live with him 
a quarter of a century. He is ice, and you are fire. Dearest, 

22 


450 When The World Was Younger. 

you belong to me. He who made us both created us to be 
happy together. There are strings in our hearts that 
harmonize as concords in music do. We are miserable 
apart, both of us. We waste, and fade, and torture our- 
selves in absence ; but only to breathe the same air, to sit, 
silent, in the same room is to be happy.” 

Let me go,” she cried, looking at him with wild eyes, 
leaning against the locked door, her hands clutching at 
the latch, seeming neither to hear nor heed his impassioned 
address, though every word had sunk deep enough to 
remain in her memory forever. Let me go! You are 
a dishonorable villain. I came to London alone to your 
deserted house. I was not afraid of death or the plague 
then. I am not afraid of you now. Open this door, and 
let me go, never to see your wicked face again.” 

Angela, cans t thou so play fast and loose with happi- 
ness ? Look at me,” kneeling at her feet, trying to take 
her hands from their hold on the latch. Our fate is in 
our power to-night. The day is near dawning, and at the 
stroke of five my coach will be at the door to take us to 
Bristol, where the ship lies that shall take us to Hew 
England — to a new world, and liberty ; and the sweet 
simple life that my dear love prefers to all the garish 
pleasures of a licentious court. Ah, dearest, I know thy 
mind and heart as well as I know my own. I know I can 
make thee happy in that fair new world, where we shall 
begin life again free from all old burdens ; and where, if 
thou wilt, my motherless children can join us, and make 
one loving household. My Henriette adores you ; and it 
were Christian charity to rescue her and her brother from 
Charles Stuart’s England, and to bring them up to an 
honest life in a country where men are free to worship God 
as He moves them. Love, you cannot deny me. So sweet 
a life waits for us ; and you have but to lay that dear 
hand in mine and give consent.” 


“Quite Out Of Fashion.” 451 

Oh, God ! ” she murmured. I thought this man 
held m,e in honor and esteem.” 

''Do I not honor you ? Ah, love, what can a man do 
more than offer his life to her he loves ” 

" And if he is another woman^s husband ?” 

"That tie is broken.” 

" I deny it. But if it were, you have been my sisteFs 
husband, and you could be nothing to me but my brother. 
You have made sisterly affection impossible, and so, my 
lord, we must be strangers ; and, as you are a gentleman, I 
bid you open this door, and let me make my way to some 
more peaceful shelter than your house.” 

" Angela ! ” He tried to draw her to his breast ; but 
she held him off with outstretched arm, and even in the 
tumult of his passion the knowledge of her helplessness 
and his natural shame at his own treachery kept him in 
check. " Angela, call me villain if you will, but give me 
a fair hearing. Dearest, the joy or sorrow of two lives 
lies in your choice to-night. If you will trust me, and go 
with me, I swear I will make you happy. If you are stub- 
born to refuse — well, sweetheart, you will but send a man 
to the devil who is not wholly bad, and who, with you for 
his guardian angel, might find the way to heaven.” 

"And begin the journey by a sin these lips dare not 
name. Oh, Fareham,” she said, growing suddenly calm 
and grave and with something of that tender maternal 
manner with which she had soothed and controlled him 
while he had but half his wits, and when she feared he 
might be lying on his deathbed, " I would rather believe 
you a madman than a villain ; and, indeed, all that you 
have done to-night is the work of a madman, who follows 
his own wild fancy without power to reason on what he 
does. Surely, sir, you know me too well to believe that 
I would let love — were it the blindest most absorbing pas- 
sion woman ever felt — lead me into sin so base as that you 


452 When The World Was Younger. 

would urge. The vilest wanton at Whitehall would shrink 
from stealing a sister^s husband.'’^ 

There would be no theft. Your sister flings me to 
you as a dog drops the bone he has picked dry. She had 
me when I was young and a soldier — with some reflected 
glory about me from the hero I followed — and rich and 
happy. She leaves me old and haggard, without aim or 
hope, save to win her I worship. Shall I tell you when I 
began to love you, my angel ? 

No, no ; I will listen to no more raving. See, there 
is the blessed light of day. Will you let me beat my hands 
against this door till they bleed ? 

^^Thou shalt not harm the loveliest hands on earth,^^ 
seizing them both in his own, and holding them in spite 
of her struggles. Ah, sweet, I began to love thee be- 
fore ever I rose from that bed of horror where I had been 
left to perish. I loved thee in my unreason, and my love 
strengthened with each hour of returning sense. Our 
journey — I so weak, and sick, and helpless — was a ride 
through paradise. I would have had it last a year ; would 
have suffered sickness and pain, aching limbs and parched 
lips, only to feel the light touch of this dear hand upon 
my brow twixt sleep and waking ; only to look up as I 
awoke and see those sweet eyes looking down at me. Ah, 
dearest, my heart arose from among the dead and came 
out of the tomb of all human affections to greet thee. 
Till I knew you I knew not the meaning of love. And if 
you are stubborn, and will not come with me to that new 
world, where we may be so happy, why, then I must go 
down to my grave a despairing wretch that never knew a 
woman’s love.” 

My sister — your wife ? ” 

'"Never loved me. Her heart — that which she calls 
heart — was ever Malfort’s and not mine. She gave me to 
know as much by a hundred signs and tokens which read 


Quite Out Of Fashion.” 


453 


plain enough, now, looking hack, but which I scarce heeded 
at the time. I believed her chaste, and she was civil, and 
I was satisfied. I tell you, Angela, this heart never beat 
for woman till I knew you. Ah, love, be not stone ! 
Make not our affinity an obstacle. The Roman Church 
will ever grant dispensation for an union of affinities where 
there is cause for indulgence. The Church would have 
had Philip married to his wife^’s sister Elizabeth. 

The Church holds the bond of marriage indissoluble,” 
Angela answered. You are married to my sister ; and 
while she lives you. can have no other wife.” 

Her brow was stern, her courage unfaltering ; but 
physical force was failing her. She leant against the door 
for support, and she no longer struggled to withdraw her 
hands from that strong grasp which held them. She 
fought against the faintness that was stealing over her 
senses ; but her heavy eyelids were beginning to droop, 
and there was a sound like rushing water in her ears. 

Angela — Angela,” pleaded the tender voice, do you 
forget that afternoon at the play, and how you wept over 
Bellario^s fidelity — the fond girl-page who followed him 
she loved ; risked name and virtue ; counted not the cost, 
in that large simplicity of love which gives all it has to 
give, unquestioning ? Remember Bellario ! ” 

Bellario had no thought that w^as not virtuous,” she 
answered, faintly; and he took that fainter tone for a 
yielding will. 

She would not have left Philaster, if he had been alone 
in the wilderness, miserable for want of her love.” 

Her white lips moved dumbly, her eyelids sank, and her 
head fell back upon his shoulder, as he started up from his 
knees to support her sinking figure. She was in his arms, 
unconscious — the image of death. 

He kissed her on the brow. 

My soul, I will owe nothing to thy helplessness,” he 


454 When The World Was Younger. 

whispered. Thy free will shall decide whether I live or 
die.^^ 

Another sound had mingled with the rushing waters as 
her senses left her — the sound of knocking at a distant 
door. It grew louder and louder momently, indicating a 
passionate impatience in those who knocked. The sound 
came from the principal door, and there was along corridor. 
The width of the great hall between that door and Fare- 
ham^s room. 

He stood listening, undecided ; and then he laid the un- 
conscious form gently on the thick Persian carpet, knowing 
that for recovery the fainting girl could not lie too low, and 
hurried to the hall. 

As he came near, the knocking began again with greater 
vehemence, and a voice, which he recognized for Sir 
John% called — 

Open the door, in the king^s name, or we will break 
it open.’’^ 

There was a pause ; those without evidently waiting for 
the result of that last and loudest summons. 

Fareham heard the hoofs of restless horses trampling the 
gravel drive, the jingle of bit and chain, and the click of 
steel scabbards. 

Sir John had not come alone. 

So soon ; so devilish soon,^' muttered Fareham. And 
then, as the knocking was renewed, he turned and left the 
hall without a word of answer, and hastened back to the 
room where he had left Angela. His brow was fixed in a 
resolute frown, every nerve braced. He had made up his 
mind what to do. He had the house to himself, and was 
thus master of the situation, so long as he could keep his 
pursuers on the outside. The upper servants — half-a-dozen 
coach loads — had been packed off to London, under convoy 
of Manningtree and Mrs. Hubbock. The under servants — 
rank and file — from housemaids to turnspits, slept in a huge 


‘‘Quite Out Of Fashion.’* 


455 


barrack adjoining the stables, built in ElizabeWs time, to 
accommodate the lower grade of a nobleman’s household. 
These would not come into the house to light fires and sweep 
rooms till six o’clock at the earliest ; and it was not yet four. 
Lord Fareham, therefore, had to fear no interruption from 
his own people. 

There was broad daylight in the house now ; yet he looked 
about for a candle ; found one on a side- table, in a tall silver 
candlestick, and stopped to light it before he raised the 
lifeless figure from the floor, and lifted it into the easiest 
position for carrying, the head lying on his shoulder. 
Then, holding the slender waist firmly, circled by his left 
arm, he took the candlestick in his right hand, and went 
out of the room with his burden, along a passage leading 
to a seldom-used staircase, which he ascended, carrying 
that tall, slim form as if it had been a feather-weight up 
flight after flight to the muniment room in the roof. From 
that point his journey, and the management of that uncon- 
scious form, and to dispose safely the lighted candle, became 
more difficult, and occupied a considerable time ; during 
which interval the impatience of an enraged father and a 
betrothed husband outside the hall door increased with every 
minute of delay, and one of their mounted followers, of 
whom they had several, was dispatched to ride at a hand- 
gallop to the village of Chilton, and rouse the constable, 
while another was sent to Oxford for a magistrate’s warrant 
to arrest Lord Fareham on the charge of abduction. And 
meanwhile the battering upon thick oaken panels with stout 
riding-whips and heavy sword-hilts, and the calling upon 
those within, was repeated with unabated vehemence, while 
a couple of horsemen rode round the house to examine 
other inlets, and do picket duty. 

The constable and his underling were on the ground 
before that stubborn citadel answered the reiterated sum- 
mons ; but at last there came the sounds of bolts with- 


45^ When The World Was Younger. 

drawn. An iron bar dropped from its socket with a clang 
that echoed long and loud in the empty halh the door 
opened, and Fareham appeared on the threshold, corpse- 
like, in the cold raw daylight, facing his besiegers with a 
determined insolence. 

Thou most infernal villain I” cried Sir John, rushing 
into the hall, followed closely by Denzil and one of the 
men, what have you done with my daughter ?” 

Which daughter does your honor seek ? If it be she 
whom you gave me for a wife, she has broken the bond, 
and is across the sea with her paramour. 

You lie — reprobate ! Your wife had doubtless busi- 
ness relating to her French estate, which called her to Paris. 
My daughters are honest women, unless by your villainy, 
one, who should have been sacred as your sister in affinity, 
should bear a blighted name. Give me back my daughter, 
villain — the girl you lured from her home by the foulest 
deceit.” 

You cannot see the lady to-night, gentlemen ; even 
though you threaten me with your weapons, pointing with 
a sardonic smile to their drawn swords, ^‘^and outnumber 
me with your followers. The lady is gone. I am alone 
in the house to submit to any affront your superior force 
may put upon me.” 

Our superiority can at least search your house,” said 
Denzil. Sir John, you had best take one way and I an- 
other. I doubt I know every room and passage in the 
Abbey.” 

And your yeoman^s manners offer a handsome return 
for the hospitality which made you acquainted with my 
house,” said Fareham, with a contemptuous laugh. 

He followed Denzil, leaving the knight to grope alone. 
The house had been deserted but for a few days, yet the 
corridors and rooms had the heavy atmosphere of places 
long shut from sunshine and summer breezes ; while the 


‘‘Quite Out Of Fashion.” 457 

chilling hour, the gra}^, ghostly light, added something 
phantasmal and unnatural to the scene. 

Denzil entered room after room — below stairs and above 
— explored the picture gallery, the bed chambers, the long 
low ball-room in the roof, built in Elizabethans reign, when 
a wing had been added to the Abbey, and of late used only 
for lumber. Eareliam followed him close, stalking behind 
him in sullen silence, with an unalterable gloom upon a 
face which betrayed no sudden apprehensions, no triumph 
or defeat. He followed like doom, stood quietly on one 
side as Denzil opened a door ; waited on the threshold 
while the searcher made his inspection, always with the 
same iron visage, offering no opposition to the entrance of 
this or that chamber ; only following and watching, silent, 
intent, sphinx-like ; till at last, fairly v/orn out by blank 
disappointment, Denzil turned upon him in a sudden fury. 

What have you done with her ? ” he cried, desperately. 

I will stake my life she has not left this house, and by 
Him who made us you shall not leave it living unless I 
find her.” 

He glanced downward at the naked sword he had carried 
throughout his search. Fareham^s was in the scabbard, 
and he answered that glance with an insulting smile. 

'^You think I have murdered her, perhaps,” he said. 
^^Well, I would rather see her dead than yours. So far 
I am in capacity a murderer.” 

They met Sir John in Lady Fareham^s drawing-room, 
when Denzil had gone over the whole house, trusting noth- 
ing to age and dim sight. 

He has stabbed her and dropped her murdered body 
down a well,” cried the knight, half distraught. He 
cannot have spirited her away otherwise. Look at him. 
Denzil ; look at that haggard wretch I have called my son. 
He has the assassin^s aspect.” 

Something — it might be the room in which they were 


458 


When The World Was Younger. 


standing — brought back to Angolans betrothed the memory 
of that Christmas night when aunt and niece had been 
missing, and when he, Denzil, had burst into this room, 
where Fareham was seated at chess ; who, at the first 
mention of Angolans name, started up, white with horror, 
to join in the search. It was he who found her then ; it 
was he who had hidden her now, and in the same remote 
and secret spot. 

Fool that I was not to remember sooner ! cried Den- 
zil. I know whereto find her. Follow me. Sir John. 
Andrew, calling to the servant who waited in the hall, 
follow us close.'’' 

He rushed along a passage, ran upstairs faster than old 
age, were it ever so eager, could follow. But Fareham 
was nearly as fast — nearly, but not quite, able to overtake 
him ; for he was older, heavier, and more broken by the 
fever of that night’s work than his colder-tempered rival. 

Denzil was some paces in advance when he reached the 
muniment room. He found the opening in the wainscot, 
and the steep stair built into the chimney. Half way to 
the bottom there was a gap — an integral part of the plan 
— and a drop of three feet ; so that a stranger in hurried 
pursuit would be likely to come to grief at this point, and 
make time for his quarry to escape by the door that opened 
on the garden. Memory, or wits sharpened by anxiety, 
enabled Denzil to avoid this trap ; and he was at the door 
of the priest's hole before Fareham began the descent. 

Yes, she was there, kneeling in a corner, a candle burn- 
ing dimly on a stone shelf above her head. She was in 
the attitude of prayer, her head bent, her face hidden, when 
the door opened, and she saw her betrothed husband. 

Denzil ! How did you find me here ?" 

I should be a poor slave if I had not found you, rem- 
membering the past. Great God, how pale you are ! 
Come, love, you are safe. Your father is here. Angela, 


“ Quite Out Of Fashion. 


459 


thou that art so soon to be my wife — face to face — here — 
before we leave this accursed pit — tell me that you did not 
go with that villain, except for the sake of your sick sister 
— that you were the victim of a heartless lie — not a party 
to a trick invented to blind your father and me.^^ 

I doubt I have not all my senses yet/^ she said, put- 
ting her hand to her head. was told my sister wanted 
me, and I came. Where is Lord Fareham ! 

The terror in her countenance as she asked that question 
froze Denzil. Ah, he had known it all along ! That was 
the man she loved. AVas she his victim — and a willing 
victim — ? He felt as if a great gulf had opened between 
him and his betrothed, and that all his hopes had 
withered. 

Fareham was at his elbow in the next moment. 

Well, you have found her,^^ he said ; but you 
shall not have her, save by force of arms. She is in my 
custody, and I will hold her or die for her if I am out- 
numbered ! 

Execrable wretch ! would you attempt to detain her by 
violence ? Come, madam,^'’ said Denzil, turning coldly to 
Angela, there is a door on those stairs which will let you 
out into the air.” 

The door will not open at your bidding ! ” Fareham 
said, fiercely. 

He snatched Angela up in his arms before the other could 
prevent him, and carried her triumphantly to the first land- 
ing place, which was considerably below that treacherous 
gap between stair and stair. He had the key of the garden 
door in his pocket, unlocked it, and was in the open air 
with his burden before Denzil could overtake him. 

He found hinself caught in a trap. He had his coach 
and six and postilions waiting close by, and thought he had 
but to leap into it with his prey and spirit her off towards 
Bristol ; but between the coach and the door one of Sir John’s 


460 When The World Was Younger. 

pickets was standing, who the moment the door opened 
whistled his loudest, and brought constable and man and 
another armed servant running helter-skelter round an 
angle of the house, and so crossing the very path to the 
coach. 

Fire upon him if he tries to pass you ! " cried Denzil. 

What ! And shoot the lady you have professed to 
love ! exclaimed Fareham, drawing himself up, and 
standing firm as a rock, with Angela motionless in his 
arms. 

He dropped her to her feet, but held her against his left 
shoulder with an iron hold, while he drew his sword and 
made a rush for the coach. Denzil sprang into his path, 
sword in hand, and their blades crossed with a shrill clash 
and rattle of steel. They fought like demons, Fareham 
holding Angela behind him, sheltering her with his body, 
and swaying from side to side in his sword-play with a de- 
moniac swiftness and suppleness, his thick dark brows 
knitted over eyes that fiamed with a fiercer fire than fiashed 
from steel meeting steel. A shriek of horror from Angela 
marked the climax, as Denzil fell with Fareham^s sword be- 
tween his ribs. There had been little of dilettante science, 
or graceful play of wrist in this encounter. The men 
had rushed at each other savagely, like beasts in a circus, 
and whatever of science had guided Farehani^s more prac- 
tised hand had been employed automatically. The spirit 
of the fight was wild and fierce as the rage that moves rival 
stags fighting for a mate, with bent heads and trampling 
hoofs, and clash of locked antlers reverberating through 
the forest stillness. 

Fareham had no time to exult over his prostrate foe ; 
Sir John and his servants, constable and underlings, sur- 
rounded him, and he was handcuffed and hauled off to the 
coach that was to have carried him to a sinner^s paradise 
before any one had looked to Denziks wound, or discovered 


In The Court Of King*s Bench. 461 

vvhefcher that violent thrust below the right lung had been 
fatal. Angela sank swooning in her father^’s arms as the 
coach drove away towards Oxford. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

IK THE COURT OF KIKG^S BEKCH. 

The summer and autumn had gone by — an eventful 
season, for with it had vanished from the stage of politics 
one who had played so dignified and serious a part there. 
Southampton was dead. Clarendon disgraced and in exile. 
The Xestor and the Ulysses of the Stuart epic had melted 
from the scene. Down those stairs by which he had de- 
scended on his way to so many a splendid festival, himself a 
statelier figure than kings or princes, the chancellor had 
gone to banishment and oblivion. The lady had looked 
for the last time, a laughing Jezebel, from a palace window, 
exultant at her enemy’s fall ; and along the river that had 
carried such tragic destinies eastward to be sealed in blood. 
Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, had drifted quietly out 
of the history he had helped to make. The ballast of that 
grave intellect was flung overboard that the ship of fools 
might sail the faster. 

But in Westminster Hall, upon this windy November 
morning, nobody thought of Clarendon. The business of 
the day was racy enough to obliterate all considerations of 
yesterday. The young barristers, who were learning their 
trade by listening to their betters, had been shivering on 
their benches in the Common Pleas since nine o’clock in 
that chilly corner where every blast from the north or north- 
east swept over the low wooden partition that inclosed the 


462 When The World Was Younger. 

court, or cut through the chinks in the paneling. The 
students and juniors were in their usual places, sitting at 
the feet of their favorite common law judge ; but the idlers 
who came for amusement, to saunter about the hall, haggle 
for books with the second-hand dealers along the south wall, 
or flirt with the milliners who kept stalls for bands and 
other legal flnery on the opposite side, or to listen on tip- 
toe, with an ear above the paneled enclosure, to the quips 
and cranks or fierce rhetoric of a famous advocate — these 
to-day gravitated with one accord towards the southwest 
corner of the hall, where, in the Court of King^s Bench, 
Eichard Eevel, Baron Fareham, of Fareham, Hants, was 
to be tried by a Buckinghamshire jury for abduction with 
fraud, malice, and violence, and for assault, with intent to 
murder. 

The rank of the offender being high, and the indictment 
known to involve tragic details of family history, there had 
been much talk of the cause which was on the paper for 
to-day ; and, as a natural consequence, besides the habitual 
loungers and saunterers, gossips, and book-buyers, there 
was to-day a considerable sprinkling of persons of quality, 
who perfumed the not-too-agreeable atmosphere with pul- 
vilio and Florentine iris powder, and the rustle of whose 
silks and brocades was audible all over the hall. Not often 
did such gowns sweep the dust brought in by plebeian feet, 
nor such Venetian point collars rub shoulders with the 
frowsy Norwich drugget worn by hireling perjurers or 
starveling clerks. The modish world had come down 
upon the great Norman hall like a flock of pigeons, sleek, 
iridescent, all fuss and flutter ; and among these unaccus- 
tomed visitors' there was prodigious impatience for the 
trial to begin, and a struggle for good places that brought 
into full play the primitive brutality which underlies the 
politeness of the civilest people. 

Lady Sarah Tewkesbury had risen betimes, and, in her 


In. The Court Of King’s Bench. 463 

anxiety to secure a good place, had come out in her last 
night^s head,^^ which somewhat damaged edifice of ginger 
colored ringlets and Eoman pearls was now visible above 
the wooden partition of the King’s Bench to the eyes of 
the commonalty in the hall below, her ladyship being ac- 
commodated with a seat among the lawyers. 

There was one of them — a very young man, in a shabby 
gown and rumpled wig, but with a fair complexion and 
tolerable features — a stranger to that court, and better 
known at Hicks’s Hall, and among city litigators, with 
whom he had already a certain repute for keen wits and a 
plausible tongue — about the youngest advocate at the 
English Bar, and by some people said to be no barrister at 
all, but to have put on wig and gown two years ago at 
Kingston Assizes and called himself to the Bar, and stayed 
there by sheer audacity. This young gentleman, Jeffreys 
by name, having deserted the city and possible briefs in 
order to hear the Eareham trial, was inclined to resent 
being ousted by an obsequious official to make room for 
Lady Sarah. 

Faith, one would suppose I was her ladyship’s footman 
and had been keeping her seat for her,” he grumbled, as 
he reluctantly rose at the usher’s whispered request, and 
edged himself sulkily off to a corner where he found just 
enough standing-room. 

It was a very hard seat which Mr. Jeffreys had vacated 
and her ladyship, after sitting there over two hours, nod- 
ding asleep a good part of the time, began to feel internal 
sinkings and flutterings which presaged what she called a 

swound,” and necessitated recourse to a crystal flask of 
strong waters which she had prudently brought in her 
muff. Other of Lady Fareham’s particula frriends were 
expected — Sir Ralph Masaroon, Lady Lucretia Topham, 
and more of the same kidney ; and even the volatile Roch- 
ester had deigned to express an interest in the case. 


464 When The World Was Younger. 

The man was mistaken in his metier,” he had told 
Lady Sarah, when the scandal was discussed in her draw- 
ino:-room. The role of seducer was not within his means. 
Any one could see he was in love with the pale sister-in-law 
by the manner in which he scowled at her ; but it is not 
every woman who can be subjugated by gloom and sullen- 
ness, though some of ’em like us tragical. My method has 
been to laugh away resistance, as my wife will acknowl- 
edge who was the cruellest I ever tackled, and had baf- 
fled all her other servants. Indeed she must have been in 
Butler’s eye when he wrote — 

‘ That old Pyg — what d’ye call him — malion 
That cut his mistress out of stone, 

Had not so hard a hearted one.’ 

Even Lady Eochester will admit I conquered without 
heroics,” upon which her ladyship, late mistress Mallett, a 
beauty and a fortune, smiled assent with all the compla- 
cency of a six-months’ bride. To see a man tried for an 
attempted abduction is a sight worth a year’s income,” pur- 
sued Eochester. I would travel a hundred miles to be- 
hold that rare monster who has failed in his pursuit of one 
of your obliging sex ! ” 

Do you think us all so easily won ? ” asked Lady 
Sarah, piqued. 

Dear lady, I can but judge by experience. If occasion- 
ally obdurate to others you have still been kind to me.” 

Lady Sarah had nearly emptied her flask of Muscadine 
before Masaroon elbowed his way to a seat beside her, from 
which he audaciously dislodged a coflee-house acquaint- 
ance, an elderly lawyer upon whom fortune had not smiled, 
with a condescending civility that was more uncivil than 
absolute rudeness. 

‘^Wefll share a bottte in hell after the trial, mon ami,” 
he said ; and on seeing Lady Sarah’s look of horror, he 


465 


In The Court Of King’s Bench. 

hastened to explain that heaven, hell, and purgatory, were 
the cant names of three taverns which drove a roaring 
trade in strong drinks under the very roof of the hall. 

“ The king’s attorney-general is prosecuting,” answered 
Sir Ealph, replying to a question from Lady Sarah, whose 
inquiries betrayed that dense ignorance of legal technicali- 
ties common to accomplished women. It is thought the 
lady’s father would have been glad for the matter to be 
quashed, his fugitive daughter being restored to his custody 
— albeit with a damaged character — and her elder sister 
having run away from her husband.” 

I will not hear you slander my dearest friend,” pro- 
tested Lady Sarah. Lady Fareham left her husband, 
and with good cause, as his after-conduct showed. She 
did not run away from him.” 

Kay, she had doubtless the assistance of a carriage and 
six. She would scarce foot it from London to Dover. 
And now she is leading grand train in Paris, and has taken 
almost as commanding a place as her friend Madame de 
Longueville, penitent and. retired from service.” 

Hyacinth, under all her appearance of silliness, is a 
remarkably clever woman,” said Lady Sarah, sententiously ; 

but, pray. Sir Ealph, if Mistress Angela’s father has good 
reason for not prosecuting his daughter’s lover — indeed I 
ever thought her an underhand hussy — why does not Sir 
Denzil Warner — who I hear has been at death’s door — pur- 
sue him for assault and battery ? ” 

Kay, is so still, madam. I question if he be yet out of 
danger. The gentleman is a kind of puritanical Quixote, 
and has persistently refused to swear an information 
against Fareham, whereby I doubt the case will fall 
through, or his lordship get off with a fine of a thousand 
or two. We have no longer the blessing of a Star Chamber, 
to supply state needs out of sinner’s pockets, and mitigate 
general taxation ; but his majesty’s judges have a capacious 
30 


4^6 When The World Was Younger. 

stomach for fines, and his majesty has no objection to see 
his subjects’ misdemeanors transmuted into coin.” 

And now the business of the day began, the paneled in- 
closure being by this time crowded almost to suffocation, 
and Lord Fareham was brought into court. 

He was plainly dressed in a dark gray suit, and looked 
some years older than when Lady Sarah had last seen him 
on his wife’s visiting day, an uninterested member of that 
modish assembly. His eyes were deeper sunken under the 
strongly marked brows. The threads of iron-gray in his 
thick black hair were more conspicuous. He carried his 
head higher than he had been accustomed to carry it, and 
the broad shoulders were no longer bent in the Stafford 
stoop. The spectators could see that he had braced himself 
for the ordeal, and would go through the day’s work like a 
man of iron. 

Proclamation was made for silence, and for information, 
if any person could give any, concerning the misdemeanor 
and offence whereof the defendant stood impeached ; and 
the defendant was bid to look to his challenges, and the 
jury, being gentlemen of the county of Bucks, were called, 
challenged, and sworn. 

The demand for silence was so far obeyed that there 
followed a hush within the inclosure of the court ; but 
there was no cessation of the buzz of voices and the tramp 
of footsteps in the hall, which mingled sounds seemed like 
the rise and fall of a human ocean, as heard within that 
paneled sanctuary. 

The lawyers took snuff, shuffled on their seats, nudged 
each other and whispered now and then during the read- 
ing of the indictment ; but among Lady Fareham’s friends, 
and the quality in general, there was a breathless silence 
and expectancy ; and Lady Sarah would gladly have run 
her hat-pin into a snuffy old sergeant close beside her, who 
must needs talk behind liis hand to his pert junior. 


In The Court Of King’s Bench. 467 

To her ladyship^s unaccustomed ears that indictment, 
translated literally from the Latin original, sounded terri- 
ble as an impeachment in the subterranean halls of the 
Vehm Gericht, or in the most select and secret council in 
the Venetian doge^s palace. 

The indictment set forth that the defendant, Richard 
Revel, Baron Fareham, on the 4th day of July, in the 18th 
year of our sovereign lord the king that now is, at the 
parish of St. Nicholas, in the county of Bucks, falsely, 
unlawfully, unjustly, and wickedly, by unlawful and impure 
ways and means, contriving, practising; and intending 
the final ruin and destruction of Mrs. Angela Kirk- 
land, unmarried, and one of the daughters of Sir John 
Kirkland, knight — the said lady then and there being 
under the custody, government, and education of the said 
Sir John Kirkland, her father, — he the said Richard Revel, 
Baron Fareham, then and there falsely, unlawfully, devil- 
ishly, to fulfill, perfect, and bring to effect, his most 
wicked, impious, and devilish intentions aforesaid — the said 
Richard Revel, Lord Fareham (then and long before, and 
yet, being the husband of Mrs. Hyacinth, another daughter 
of the said Sir John Kirkland, knight, a sister of the said 
Mrs. Angela), against all laws as well divine as human, 
impiously, wickedly, impurely, and scandalously, did tempt, 
invite, and solicit, and by false and lying pretences, oaths, 
and affirmations, unlawfully, unjustly, and without the 
leave, and against the will of the aforesaid Sir John Kirk- 
land, knight, in prosecution of his most wicked intent afore- 
said did carry off the aforesaid Mrs. Angela, she consenting 
in ignorance of his real purpose, about the hour of twelve in 
the night-time of the said 4th day of J uly, in the year afore- 
said, and at the aforesaid parish of St. J ohn’s in the Bale, in 
the county of Bucks aforesaid, out of the dwelling-house of 
the said Sir John Kirkland, knight, did take and convey to 
his own house in the county of Oxford, and did then and 


468 When The World Was Younger. 

there detain her by fraud, and did there keep her hidden in 
a secret chamber known as the Priest^s Hole in his own 
house aforesaid, at the hazard of her life, and did oppose 
her rescue by force of arms, and with his sword, unlaw- 
fully, murderously, and devilishly, and in the prosecution 
of his wicked purpose did stab and wound Sir Denzil War- 
ner, baronet, the lady^s betrothed husband, from which 
murderous assault the said Sir Denzil Warner, baronet, still 
lies in great sickness and danger of death, to the great 
displeasure of Almighty God, to the ruin and destruction 
of the said Mrs. Angela Kirkland, to the grief and sorrow 
of all her friends, and to the evil and most pernicious ex- 
ample of all others in the like case offending ; and against 
the peace of our said sovereign lord the king, his crown and 
dignity.” 

The defendant having pleaded not guilty,” the jury 
were charged in the usual manner, and with all solemnity. 

‘‘'If you find him ‘guilty'’ you are to say so ; if you find 
him ‘ not guilty'’ you are to say so, and no more, and hear 
your evidence.” 

The Attorney-General confined himself to a brief outline 
of the tragic story, leaving all details to be developed by 
the witnesses, who were allowed to give their evidence with 
a colloquial freedom and expansiveness. 

The first witness was old Reuben, the steward from the 
Manor Moat, who had not yet emerged from that mental 
maze in which he had found himself upon beholding the 
changes that had come to pass in the great city, since the 
well-remembered winter of the king's execution, and the 
long frost, when he, Reuben, was lost in London. His 
evidence was confused and confusing ; and he drew upon 
himself much good-natured ridicule from the junior who 
opened the case. Out of various muddle-headed answers 
and contradictory statements the facts of Lord Pareham's 
unexpected appearance at the Manor Moat^ his account of 


In The Court Of King’s Bench. 469 

his lady^s illness, and his hurried departure carrying the 
young madam with him on horseback, were elicited, and 
the story of the ruse by which Mrs. Angela Kirkland had 
been beguiled from her home was made clear, to the com- 
prehension of a superior but rustic jury, more skilled in 
discriminating the points of a horse, the qualities of an 
ox, or the capacity of a hound, than in differentiating truth 
and falsehood in a story of wrong-doing. 

Sir John Kirkland was the next witness, and the aspect 
of the man, the noble gray head, fine features, and soldierly 
carriage, the old-fashioned habit, the fashion of an age 
not long past but almost forgotten, enlisted the regard and 
compassion of jury and audience. 

Let me perish if it is not a ghost from the civil wars ! ” 
whispered Sir Ealph to Lady Sarah. Mrs. Angela might 
well be romanesque and unlike the rest of us, with such 
a father.” 

A spasm of pain convulsed Fareham^s face for a mo- 
ment, as the old Cavalier stood up in the witness-box, 
towering above the court in that elevated position, and after 
being sworn, took one swift survey of the Bench and jury, 
and then fixed his angry gaze upon the defendant, and 
scarcely shifted it in the whole course of his examina- 
tion. 

Kow, gentlemen of the jury,” said the Attorney-Gen- 
eral, we shall tell you what happened at Chilton Abbey, 
to which place the defendant, under such fraudulent and 
lying pretences as you have heard of from the last 
witness, conveyed the young lady. Sir John, I will ask 
you to acquaint the jury as fully and straightforwardly as 
you can with the circumstances of your pursuit, and the 
defendant’s reception of you and your intended son-in-law. 
Sir Denzil Warner, whose deposition we have failed to ob- 
tain, but who could relate no facts which are not equally 
within your own knowledge.” 


4/0 When The World Was Younger. 

My words shall be straight and plain, sir, to denounce 
that unchristian wretch whom, until this miserable business, 
I trusted as if he had been my son. I came to my house, 
accompanied by my daughter^'s plighted husband, within 
an hour after that villain conveyed her away ; and on 
hearing my old servant’s story was quick to suspect treach- 
ery. 'Nor was Sir Denzil backward in his fears, which 
were more instantaneous than mine ; and we waited only 
for the saddling of fresh horses, and rousing a couple of 
sturdy grooms from their beds, fellows that I could trust 
for prudence and courage, before we mounted again, fol- 
lowing in that wretch’s track. We heard of him and his 
victim at the inn, where they changed horses, she going con- 
sentingly, believing she was being taken in this haste to 
attend a dying sister.” 

And on arriving at the defendant’s house, what was 
your reception ? ” 

He opposed our entrance, until he saw that we could 
batter down his door if he shut us out longer. We were 
not admitted until after I had sent one of my servants for 
the nearest constable ; and before we had gained an en- 
trance into his house he had contrived to put away my 
daughter in a wretched hiding-place, planned for the con- 
cealment of Eomish priests or other recusants and malefac- 
tors, and would have kept her there, I believe, till she had 
perished in that foul cavern rather than restore her to her 
father and natural guardian.” 

That is false, and you know it,” cried Fareham. 

My life is of less account to me than a hair of her head. 
I hid her from you to save her from your tyranny, and the 
hateful marriage to which you would have compelled 
her.” 

Liar ! Impudent, barbarous liar,” roared the old 
knight, with his right arm raised, and his body half out 
of the box, as if he would have assaulted the defendant. 


471 


In The Court Of King’s Bench. 

Sir John,” said the Judge, would he very loath 
to deal otherwise than becomes me with a person of your 
quality; but, indeed, this is not so handsome and we must 
desire you to be calm.” 

When I remember his infamy, and that vile assump- 
tion of my daughter’s passion for him, which he showed in 
every word and act of that miserable scene.” 

He went on to relate the searching of the house, and 
Warner’s happy inspiration by which Angela’s hiding-place 
was discovered, and she rescued in a fainting condition. 
He described the defendant’s audacious attempt to convey 
her to the coach which stood ready for her abduction, and 
his violence in opposing her rescue, and the fight which 
had well-nigh resulted in Warner’s death. 

When Sir John’s story was finished the defendant’s ad- 
vocate, who had declined to question the old butler, rose 
to cross-examine this more important witness. 

In your tracing of the defendant’s journey between 
your house and Chilton you heard of no outcries of resist- 
ance upon your daughter’s side ? ” 

^^No, sir. She went willingly, under a delusion.” 

And do you think now, sir, as a man of the world, and 
with some knowledge of women, that your daughter 
was so easily hoodwinked ; she having seen her sister. Lady 
Fareham, so shortly before, in good health and spirits ? ” 

Lady Fareham did not appear in good health when 
she was last at the Manor, and her sister was already un- 
easy about her.” 

But not so uneasy as to believe her dying, and that it 
was needful to ride to her helter-skelter in the night-time. 
Ho you not think, sir, that the young lady, who was so 
quick to comply with his lordship’s summons, and bustled 
up and was in the saddle ten minutes after he entered the 
house, and was willing to go without her own woman, or 
any preparation for travel, had a strong inclination for the 


4/2 When The World Was Younger. 

journey, and a great kindness for the gentleman who solic- 
ited her company ? ” 

Has that barbarous wretch set you on to slander the 
lady whose ruin he sought, sir ? asked the knight, pallid 
with the white heat of indignation. 

Hay, Sir John, I am no slanderer ; but I want the 
jury to understand the sentiments and passions which are 
the springs of action here, and to bear in mind that the 
case they are hearing is a love story, and they can only 
come at the truth by remembering their own experience 
as lovers ” 

The deep and angry tones of his client interrupted the 
silvery-tongued counselor. 

If you think to help me, sir, by traducing the lady, 
I repudiate your advocacy. 

My lord, you are not allowed to give evidence or to 
interrupt the court. You have pleaded not guilty, and it 
is my duty to demonstrate your innocence. Come, Sir 
John, do you not know that his lordship^s unhappy pas- 
sion for his sister-in-law was shared by the subject of it ; 
and that she for a long time opposed all your efforts to 
bring about a proper alliance for her, solely guided and 
influenced by this secret passion.” 
know no such thing.” 

Do I understand then that from the time of your first 
proposals she was willing to marry SirDenzil Warner ?” 

She was not willing.” 

I doubted as much. Did you fathom her reason for 
declining so proper an alliance ? ” 

I did not trouble myself about her reasons. I knew 
that time would wear them away.” 

And I doubt you trusted to a fa therms authority.” 

^^Ho, sir. I promised my daughter that I would not 
force her inclinations.” 

But you used all methods of persuasion. How long 


In The Court Of King’s Bench. 473 

was it before July the fourth that Mrs. Angela consented 
to marry Sir Denzil ? ” 

I cannot be over precise upon that point. I have no 
record of the date.” 

But you have the faculty of memory, sir, and this is 
a point which a father would not easily forget.” 

It may have been a fortnight before.” 

And until that time the lady was unwilling.” 

^^Yes.” 

She refused positively to accept the match you urged 
upon her ? ” 

She refused.” 

^^And finally consented, I will wager, with marked 
reluctance ? ” 

^‘^Ko, sir, there was no reluctance. She came to me of 
her own accord, and surprised me by her submission.” 

That will do. Sir John. You can stand down. I shall 
now proceed to call a witness who will convince the jury 
of my client’s innocence upon the first and chief count in 
the indictment, abduction with fraud and violence. I shall 
tell you by the lips of my witness, that if he took the lady 
away from her home, she being of full age, she went freely 
consenting, and with knowledge of his purpose.” 

Lies — foul lies ! ” cried the old Cavalier, almost 
strangled with passion. He plucked at the knot of his 
cravat, trying to loosen it, feeling himself threatened with 
an apoplexy. 

Call Mistress Angela Kirkland,” said the sergeant, in 
strong steady tones, that contrasted with the indignant 
father’s hoarse and gasping utterance. 

S’life, the business becomes every moment more inter- 
esting,” whispered Lady Sarah. ""Will he make that sly 
slut own her misconduct in open court ?” 

"" If she blush at her slip from virtue, it will be a new 
sensation in London law-court to see the color of shame,” 


474 When The World Was Younger. 

replied Sir Ealph, behind his perfumed glove ; but I 
warrant she^ll carry matters with a high hand, and feel 
herself every inch a heroine. 

Angela came into the court, attended by her waiting- 
woman, who remained near the entrance, amid the close- 
packed crowd of lawyers and on-lookers, while her mistress 
quietly followed the official who conducted her to the wit- 
ness-box. 

She was dressed in black, and her countenance under her 
neat black hood looked scarcely less white than her lawn 
handkerchief ; but she stood erect and unfaltering in the 
conspicuous station, and met the eyes of her interrogator 
with an untroubled gaze. When she had touched the dirty 
little book, greasy with the kisses of innumerable perjuries, 
the sergeant proceeded to question her in a tone of odious 
familiarity. 

Now, my dear young lady, here is a gentleman^s 
liberty, and perhaps his life, hanging on the breath of those 
pretty lips ; so I want you to answer a few plain questions 
with as plain speech as you can command, remembering 
that you are to tell us truth, and the whole truth, and 
nothing but the truth. Come, now, dear miss, when you 
left your father’s house on the night of July 4th, in this 
present year, in Lord Fareham’s company, did you go with 
him of your free will, and with a knowledge of his purpose? ” 
I knew that he loved me.” 

A heart-broken groan from Sir John Kirkland was 
hushed down by an usher of the court. 

You knew that he loved you, and that he designed to 
carry you beyond seas ? ” 

Yes.” 

"" And you were willing to leave your father’s custody, 
and to go with the defendant as his paramour ? ” 

There was a pause, and the white cheek crimsoned, and 
the heavy eyelids fell over agonized eyes. 


475 


In The Court Of King’s Bench. 

Yes ; I went willingly — because I loved him,” and then 
with a sudden burst of passion, I would have died for 
him, or lived for him. It mattered not which.” 

And she has lied for him — has sworn to a lie — and that 
to her own dishonor,” cried Sir John, beside himself ; 
whereupon he was sternly bidden to keep silence. 

There was no intention that this little Buckinghamshire 
gentleman should be indulged to the injury of a person of 
Lord Fareham^s wealth and consequence. The favor of 
the bench obviously leant towards the defendant. 

Fareham’s deep tones startled the audience. 

In truth, your honor, the young lady has belied herself 
in order to help me,” he said ; I cannot accept acquittal 
at the cost of her good name.” 

Your lordship has pleaded not guilty.” 

And his lordship^s chivalry would revoke that plea,” 
cried the counsel ; this is most irregular. I must beg 
that the Bench do order the defendant to keep silence. 
The witness can stand down.” 

Angela descended from the witness-box falteringly, and 
would perhaps have fallen but for her father's strong grasp, 
which clutched her arm as she reached the last step. 

He dragged her out of the close-packed court, and into 
the open hall. 

Wanton ! ” he hissed in her ear, shameless wanton ! ” 

She answered nothing ; but stood where he held her, 
with wild eyes looking out of a white rigid countenance. 
She had done what she had come there to do. Persuaded 
by Fareham's lawyer, who had waited upon her at her 
lodgings when Sir John was out of the way, she had made 
her ill-considered attempt to save the man she loved, 
ignorant of the extent of his danger, exaggerating the po- 
tential severity of his punishment, in the illimitable fear 
of a woman for the safety of the being she loves. And 
now she cared nothing what became of her, cared little 


47^ When The World Was Younger. 

even for her father^s anger or distress. There was always 
the convent, last refuge of sin or sorrow, which meant the 
annihilation of the individual, and where the world^s praise 
or blame had no influence. 

Her woman fussed about her with a bottle of strong 
essence, and Sir John dragged rather than led her along 
the hall, to the great door where the coach that had carried 
her from his London lodgings was in waiting. He saw her 
seated, with her woman beside her, supporting her, gave 
the coachman his orders, and then went hastily back to 
the Court of King’s Bench. 

The court was rising, the jury, without leaving their 
seats, had pronounced the defendant guilty of a misde- 
meanor, not in conveying Sir John Kirkland’s daughter 
away from her home, to which act she had avowed herself 
a consenting party ; but in detaining her with violence, 
and in opposition to her father and proper guardian. The 
Lord Chief Justice expressed his satisfaction at this verdict, 
and after expatiating with pious horror upon the evil 
consequences of an ungovernable passion, a guilty, soul- 
destroying love, a direct inspiration of Satan, sentenced 
the defendant to pay a fine of ten thousand pounds, 
upon the payment of which sum he would be set at 
liberty. 

The old Cavalier heard the brief sermon and the sentence 
which seemed to him of all punishments the most futile. 
He had hoped to see his son-in-law sent to the plantations 
for life ; had been angry at the thought that he would 
escape the gallows ; and for sole penalty he was sentenced 
to forfeit less than a year’s income. How corrupt and 
venial was a bench that made the law of the land a nullity 
when a great personage was the law-breaker ! 

He flung himself in the defendant’s way as he left the 
court, and struck him across the breast with the flat of his 
sword. 


In The Court Of King’s Bench. 477 

An unarmed man. Sir John. Is that your old-world 
chivalry ? Fareham asked, quietly. 

A crowd was round them, and swords were drawn before 
the officer could interfere. There were friends of Fareham^s 
in the court, and two of his gentlemen ; and Sir John, 
who was alone, might have been seriously hurt before the 
authorities could put down the tumult, had not his son-in- 
law protected him. 

Sheath your swords, if you love me,^^ he exclaimed, 
flinging himself in front of Sir John. ‘‘1 would not have 
the slightest violence offered to this gentleman. 

And I would kill you if I had the chance," cried Sir 
John ; that is the difference between us. I keep no 
measures with the man who ruined my daughter." 

Your daughter is as spotless a saint as the day she 
left her convent, and you are a blatant old fool to traduce 
her," said Fareham, exasperated, as the usher led him 
away. 

His detention was no more than a formality ; and as he 
had been previously allowed his liberty upon bail, he was 
now permitted to return to his own house, where by an 
order upon his banker he paid the fine, and was hencefor- 
ward a free man. 

The first use he made of his freedom was to rush to Sir 
John's lodgings, only to hear that the Cavalier, with his 
daughter and two servants, had left half an hour earlier, in 
a coach and four for Buckinghamshire. The people at the 
lodgings did not know which road they had taken, or at 
what inn they were to lie on the way. 

Well, there will be a better chance of seeing her at the 
Manor than in London," Fareham thought : "Mie cannot 
keep so close a watch upon her there as in the narrow space 
of town lodging." 


478 


When The World Was Younger. 


CHAPTER XXVL 

BKIKGERS OF SUKSHINE. 

It was December, and the fields and pastures were white 
in the tardy dawn with the light frosts of early winter, 
and Sir John Kirkland was busy making his preparations 
for leaving Buckinghamshire and England with his daugh- 
ter. He had come from Spain at the beginning of the year, 
hoping to spend the remnant of his days in the home of his 
forefathers, and to lay his old bones in the family vault ; but 
the place was poisoned to him for evermore, he told Angela. 
He could not stay where he and his had been held in 
highest honor, to have his daughter pointed at by every 
grinning lout in hobnailed shoes, and scorned by the 
neighboring quality. He only waited till Denzil Warner 
should be pronounced out of danger and on the high-road 
to recovery, before he crossed the Channel. 

‘ ^ There is no necessity that you should leave Bucking- 
hamshire, sir,” Angela argued. It is the dearest wish 
of my heart to return to the convent at Louvain, and 
finish my life there, sheltered from the world^’s contempt.” 

What, having failed to get your fancy, you would ded- 
icate yourself to God ?” he cried. ^^Xo, madam. I am 
still your father, though you have disgraced me ; and I 
require a daughter's duty from you. Oh, child, I so loved 
you, was so proud of you ! It is a bitter physic you have 
given me to drink.” 

She knelt at his feet, and kissed his sunburnt hands, 
shrunken with age. 

I will do whatever you desire, sir. I wish no higher 


Bnngers Of Sunshine. 4^g 

privilege than to wait upon you ; but when you weary of 
me there is ever the convent/^ 

Leave that for your libertine sister. Be sure she will 
finish a loose life by a conspicuous piety. She will turn 
saint like Madame de Longueville. Sinners are the stuff 
of which modern saints are made. And women love ex- 
tremes, to pass from silk and luxury to four o’clock matins 
and the Carmelite’s woolen habit. No, Angela, there 
must be no convent for you, while I live. Your penance 
will be to suffer the company of a petulant, disappointed 
-old man.” 

No penance, sir ; but peace and contentment, so I am 
but forgiven.” 

Oh, you are forgiven. There is that about you with 
which one cannot long be angry — a creature so gentle and 
submissive, a reed that bends under a blow. Let us not 
think of the past. You were a fool — but not a wanton. 
No, I will never believe that ! A generous, headstrong 
fool, ready with thine own perjured lips to blacken thy 
character in order to save the villain who did his best to 
ruin thee. But thou art pure,” looking down at her with 
a severe scrutiny : there is no memory of guilt in those 
eyes. We will go away together, and live peacefully to- 
gether, and you shall still be the staff of my failing steps, 
the light of my fading eyes, the comfort of my ebbing life. 
Were I but easy in my mind about those poor forsaken 
grandchildren, I could leave England cheerfully enough ; 
but to know them motherless — with such a father ! ” 

Indeed, sir, I believe, however greatly Lord Fareham 
may have erred, he will not prove a neglectful father,” 
Angela said, her voice growing low and tremulous as she 
pronounced that fatal name. 

You will vouch for him, no doubt. A licentious 
villain, but an admirable father ? No, child, nature does 
not deal in such anomalies. The children are alone at 


48o When The World Was Younger. 

Chilton with their English gouvernante, and the prim 
Frenchwoman, who takes infinite pains to perfect Hen- 
riette^s unlikeness to a human child. They are alone, 
and their father is hanging about the Court. 

At Court ! Lord Fareham ! Indeed, sir, I think you 
must be mistaken.” 

Indeed, madam, I have the fact on good authority.” 

Oh, sir, if you have reason to think those dear chil- 
dren neglected, is it not your duty to protect and care for 
them ? Their poor mistaken mother has abandoned 
them.” 

Yes, to play the great lady in Paris, where, when I 
went in quest of her last July while thou wert lying sick 
here — hoping to bring back a penitent, I was received with 
a triumphant insolence, finding her the center of a circle 
of fiatterers, a Princess in little, with all the airs, and 
graces, and ceremonies, and hauteur of the French Blood- 
royal. When I charged her with being MalforPs mistress, 
and bade her pack her traps and come home with me, she 
deafened me with her angry volubility, I to slander her — 
I, her father, when there was no one in Paris from the 
Place Eoyal to the Louvre more looked up to. But when 
I questioned my old friends they answered with enigmatical 
smiles, and assured me that they knew nothing against my 
daughter's character worse than all the world was saying 
about some of the highest ladies in France — madame, to 
wit ; and with this cold comfort I must needs be content, 
and leave her in her splendid infamy.” 

Father, be sure she will come back to us. She has been 
led into wrongdoing by the artfullest of villains. > She will 
discover the emptiness of her life, and come back to seek 
the solace of her children's love. Let us care for them 
meanwhile. They have no other kindred. Think of our 
sweet Henriette — so rich, so beautiful, so over-intelligent 
— growing from child to woman in the care of servants. 


Bringers Of Sunshine. 481 

who may spoil and pervert her even by their very fond- 
ness.” 

It is a bad case, I grant ; but I can stir no finger where 
that man is concerned. I can hold no communication 
with that scoundrel.” 

But your lawyer could claim custody of the children 
for you, perhaps.” 

I think not, Angela, unless there was a criminal 
neglect of their bodies. The law takes no account of 
souls.” 

Angela^s greatest anxiety — now that DenziTs recovery 
was assured — was for the welfare of these children whom 
she fondly loved, and for whom she would have gladly 
played a mother^s part. She had written in secret to her 
sister, entreating her to return to England for her children's 
sake, and to devote herself to them in retirement at Chilton, 
leaving the scandal of her elopement to be forgotten in 
the course of blameless secluded years ; so that by the time 
Henriette was old enough to enter the world her mother 
would have recovered the esteem of worthy people, as well 
as the respect of the mob. 

Lady Fareham’s tardy answer had not been encourag- 
ing. She had no design of returning to a house in which 
she had never been properly valued, and she admired that 
her sister should talk of scandal, considering that the 
scandal of her own intrigue with her brother-in-law had 
set all England talking, and had been openly mentioned 
in the London and Oxford Gazettes. Silence about other 
people's affairs would best become a young miss who had 
made herself so notorious. 

As for the children. Lady Eareham had no doubt that 
their father, who had ever lavished more affection upon 
them than he bestowed upon his wife, might be trusted 
with the care of them, however abominable his conduct 
might be in other matters. But in any case her ladyship 

31 


482 When The World Was Younger. 

would not exchange Paris for London, where she had been 
slighted and neglected at court as well as at home. 

The letter was a tissue of injustice and egotism ; and 
Angela gave up all hope of influencing her sister for good ; 
but not the hope of being useful to her sister’s children. 

Now, as the short winter days went by, and the prepara- 
tions for departure were making, she grew more and more 
urgent with her father to obtain the custody of his grand- 
children, and carry them to France with him, where they 
might be reared and educated under his own eye. Mont- 
pelier was the place of exile he had chosen, a place re- 
nowned alike for its admirable climate and educational 
establishments ; and where Sir John had spent the previous 
winter, and had made friends. 

It was to Montpelier the great chancellor had retired 
from the splendors of a princely mansion but just com- 
pleted — far exceeding his own original intentions in 
splendor, as the palaces of new-made men are apt to do — 
and from a power and authority second only to that of 
royalty. There the grandfather of future queens was now 
residing in modest state, devoting the evening of his life to 
the composition of an authentic record of the late rebellion 
and of those few years during which he had been at the 
head of affairs in England. Sir John Kirkland, who had 
never forgotten his own disappointments in the beginning 
of his master’s restored fortunes, had a fellow-feeling for 
^^Ned Hyde” in his fall. 

^^As a statesman he was next in capacity to Wentworth,” 
said Sir John, ^^and yet a painted favorite and a rabble 
of shallow wits were strong enough to undermine him. 

The old knight confessed that he had ridden out of his 
way on several occasions when he was visiting Warner’s 
sick-bed, in the hope of meeting Henriette and George on 
their ponies, and had more than once been so lucky as to 
see them. 


Bringers Of Sunshine. 483 

The girl grows handsomer, and is as insolent as ever ; 
but she has a sorrowful look which assures me she misses 
her mother ; though it was indeed of that wretch, her 
father, she talked most. She said he had told her he was 
likely to go on a foreign embassy. If it is to France he 
goes, there is an end of Montpelier. The same country 
shall not hold him and my daughter while I live to pro- 
tect you.” 

Angela began to understand that it was his fear, or his 
hatred of Fareham which was taking him out of his native 
country. Ho word had been said of her betrothal since 
that fatal night. It seemed tacitly understood that all 
was at an end between her and Denzil Warner. She her- 
self had been prostrate with a low nervous fever during a 
considerable part of that long period of apprehension and 
distress in which Denzil lay almost at the point of death, 
nursed by his grief-stricken mother, to whom the very 
name of his so lately betrothed wife was hateful. Verily 
the papistical bride had brought a greater trouble to that 
house than even Lady Warner’s prejudiced mind had an- 
ticipated. Kneeling by her son^s bed, exhausted with the 
passion of long prayers for his recovery, the mothers 
thoughts went back to the day when Angela crossed the 
threshold of that house for the first time, so fair, so 
modest, with a countenance so innocent in its pensive 
beauty. 

^^And yet she was guilty at heart even then,” Lady 
Warner told herself, in the long night-watches, after the 
trial at Westminster Hall, when Angela's public confession 
of an unlawful love had been reported to her by her favor- 
ite Nonconformist divine, who had been in court through- 
out the trial, with Lady Warner's lawyer, watching the 
proceedings in the interest of Sir Denzil. 

Lady Warner received the news of the verdict and sen- 
tence with unspeakable indignation. 


484 When The World Was Younger, 

^^And my murdered son I” she gasped; ^^for I know 
not yet that God will hear my prayers and raise him up to 
me again. Is his blood to count for nothing — or his suf- 
ferings — his patient sufferings on that bed ? A fine — a 
paltry fine — a trifle for a rich man. I would pay thrice as 
much, though it beggared me, to see him sent to the plan- 
tations. 0 Judge and Avenger of blood. Thou hast 
scourged us with pestilence, and punished us with fire ; 
but Thou hast not convinced us of sin. The world is so 
sunk in wickedness that murder scarce counts for crime.” 

The day of terror was past. Denzihs convalescence was 
proceeding slowly, but without retrograde stages. His 
youth and temperate habits had helped his recovery from 
a wound which in the earlier stages looked fatal. He was 
able to sit up in an armchair, and talk to his visitor now, 
when Sir John rode twenty miles to see him ; but only 
once did his lips shape the name that had been so dear, 
and that occasion was at the end of a visit which Sir John 
announced as the last. 

Our goods are packed and ready for shipping,” he said. 

My daughter and I will begin our journey to Montpelier 
early next week.” 

It was the first time Sir John had spoken of his daughter 
in that sick room.” 

If she could ever speak to me, in the time to come,” 
Denzil said — speaking very sloAvly, in a low voice, as if 
the effort, mental and physical, were almost beyond his 
strength, and holding the hand which Sir John had given 
him in saying good-bye — tell her that I shall ever re- 
member her with a compassionate affection — ever hold her 
the dearest and loveliest of women — yes, even if I should 
marry, and see the children of some fair and chaste wife 
growing up around me. She will ever be the first. And 
tell her that I know she belied herself in the court ; and 
that she was the innocent dupe of that villain — never his 


Bringers Of Sunshine. 485 

consenting companion. And tell her that I pity her even 
for that so misplaced affection which tempted her to swear 
to a lie. I knew, sir, always that she loved him and not 
me. Yes, from the first. Indeed, sir, it was but too easy 
to read that unconscious beginning of unholy love, which 
grew and strengthened like some fatal disease. I knew, 
but nursed the fond hope that I could win her heart — in 
spite of him. I fancied that right must prevail over 

wrong ; but it does not, you see, sir, not always — not ” 

A faintness came over him ; whereupon his mother, re-en- 
tering the room at this moment, ran to him and restored 
him with the strong essence that stood handy among the 
medicine bottles on the table by his chair. 

You have suffered him to talk too much,^’ she said, 
glancing angrily at Sir John. And Ifil warrant he has 
been talking of your daughter — whose name must be poison 
to him. God knows ^tis worse than poison to me ! 

Madam, I did not come to this house to hear my 
daughter abused ” 

^^It would have better become you. Sir John Kirkland, 
to keep away from this house.^^ 

Mother, silence! You distress me worse than my 
illness ” 

^‘^This, madam, is my farewell visit. You will not be 
plagued any more with me,^^ said Sir John, lifting his hat, 
and bowing low to Lady Warner. 

He was gone before she could reply. 

The baggage was ready — clothes, books, guns, plate, and 
linen — all necessaries for an exile that might last for years 
had been packed for the sea voyage ; but the trunks and 
bales had not yet been placed in the wagon that was to 
convey them to the Tower Wharf, where they were to be 
shipped in one of the orange-boats that came at this season 
from Valencia laden with that choice and costly fruit, and 


486 When The World Was Younger. 

returned with a heterogeneous cargo. At Valencia the 
goods would be shipped to a Mediterranean coasting vessel, 
and landed at Cette. 

Sir John began to waver about his destination after hav- 
ing heard from Henriette of her father’s possible embassy. 
Certainly if Farehamwere to be employed in foreign diplo- 
macy, Paris seemed a likely post for a man who was so 
well known there, -and had spent so much of his life in 
France. And if Fareham were to be at Paris, Sir J ohn 
considered Montpelier, remote as it was from the capital, 
too near his enemy. 

He has proved himself so bold a villain,” thought the 
knight. And I could not always keep as close a watch 
upon my daughter as I have done in the last six weeks. 
No. If Fareham be for France, I am for some other coun- 
try. I might take her to Florence, put the Apennines 
between her and that daring wretch.” 

It may be, too, that Sir John had another reason for 
lingering after all was ready for the journey. He may 
have been influenced by Angela’s concern about his grand- 
children, and may have hesitated at leaving them alone in 
England with only salaried guardians. 

Their father concerns himself very little about them, 
you see,” he told Angela, since he can entertain the pro- 
ject of a foreign embassy, while those little wretches are 
pining in a lonely barrack in Oxfordshire.” 

Indeed sir, he is a fond father, I would wager my life 
that he is deeply concerned about them.” 

Oh, he is an angel, on your showing ! You would 
blacken your sister’s character to make him a saint.” 

The next day was flne and sunny, a temperature as of 
April, after the morning frost had melted. There was a 
late rose or two still lingering in the sheltered Bucking- 
hamshire valley, though it wanted but a fortnight of Christ- 
mas. Angela and her father were sitting in a parlor that 


Bringers Of Sunshine. 487 

faced the iron gates. Since their return from London Sir 
J ohn had seemed uneasy when his daughter was out of his 
sight ; and she, perceiving his watchfulness and trouble, 
had been content to abandon her favorite walks in the 
lanes and woods and to the ^^fair hill of Brill,^" whence 
the view was so lovely and so vast, on one side reaching to 
the Welsh mountains, and on another commanding the 
nearer prospect of the great fat common of Ottmoor, as 
Aubrey calls it, which in some winters is like a sea of wat- 
ers. For her fathers comfort, noting the sad wistful eyes 
that watched her coming in and going out, she had resigned 
herself to spend long melancholy hours within doors, 
reading aloud till Sir John fell asleep, playing backgam- 
mon — a game she detested worse even than shove-half- 
penny which they played sometimes on the shovel-board 
in the hall. Life could scarcely be sadder than Angela^s 
life in those gray winter days ; and had it not been for an 
occasional ride across country with her father, health and 
spirits must alike have succumbed to this monotony of 
sadness. 

This morning, as on many mornings of late, the subject 
of the boy and girl at Chilton had been discussed with the 
knight’s tankard of home-brewed and his daughter’s choco- 
late. 

Indeed, sir, it would be a cruel thing for us to abandon 
them. At Montpelier we shall be a fortnight’s journey 
from England ; and if either of those dear creatures should 
fall ill, dangerously ill perhaps, their father beyond the 
seas, and we, too, absent — oh, sir, figure to yourself Hen- 
riette or George dying among strangers ! A cold or a fever 
might carry them off in a few days, and we should know 
nothing till all was over.” 

Sir John groaned and paced the room, agitated by the 
funereal image. 

^^Why, what a raven thou art, ever to croak dismal 


488 When The World Was Younger. 

prophecies. The children are strong and well, and have 
careful custodians ; and I can have no dealings with their 
father. Must I tell you that a hundred times, Angela ? 
He is a consummate villain ; and were it not that I fear to 
make a bigger scandal, he or I should not have survived 
many hours after that iniquitous sentence. 

A happy solution of this difficulty, which distressed the 
knight much more than his stubbornness allowed him to 
admit, was close at hand that morning, while Angela bent 
over her embroidery frame, and her father spelt through 
the last London Gazette ” that the post had brought him. 

The clatter of hoofs and roll of wheels announced a visit ; 
and while they were looking at the gate, full of wonder, 
since their visitors were of so small a number, a footman in 
the Fareham livery pulled the iron ring that hung by a 
chain from the stone pillar, and the bell rang loud and 
long in the frosty air. The Fareham livery ! Twice be- 
fore the Fareham coaches and liveries had taken that quiet 
household by surprise ; but to-day terror rather than sur- 
prise was in Angela’s mind as she stood in front of the 
window looking at the gate. 

Could Fareham be so rash as to face her father, so 
daring as to seek a farewell interview on the eve of depart- 
ure ? ” Ho, she told herself ; such folly was impossible* 
The visitor could be but one person — Henriette. Even 
assured of this in her own mind, she did not rush to wel- 
come her niece, but stood as if turned to stone, waiting for 
the opening of the gate. 

Old Eeuben, having seen the footman, went himself to 
admit the visitors with his grandson and slave in attendance. 

'^It must be her little ladyship,” he said, taking his 
young mistress’s view of the case. He would never dare 
to show his deceiving face here. 

A shrill voice greeted him from the carriage window 
before he reached the gate. 


Bringers Of Sunshine. 489 

You are the slowest old wretch I ever saw,” cried the 
voice. Don^t you know that when visitors of importance 
come to a house they expect to be let in ? I vow a convent 
gate would he opened quicker.” 

Indeed, your ladyship, when your legs are as old as 
mine ” 

Which I hope they never will be,” muttered Henriette, 
as she descended with a languid slowness from the coach, 
assisted on either side by a footman ; while George, who 
could not wait for her airs and graces, let himself out at 
the door on the off side just as Eeuben succeeded in turn- 
ing the key. 

^^So you are old, Keuben ?” he said, patting the butler 
on the shoulder with the gold hilt of his riding-whip. 

And you were here, like a vegetable, all through the 
Civil Wars, the Commonwealth ?” 

^^Yes, your lordship, from the raising of Hampden’s 
regiment.” 

Ah, you shall tell me all about it over a pipe and a 
bottle. You must be vastly good company, I am come to 
live here.” 

To live here, your honor ? ” 

Yes ; sister and I are to live here while my father rep- 
resents his Majesty beyond seas. I hope you have good 
stabling and plenty of room. My ponies and Mistress 
Henriette’s Arab horse will be here to-morrow. I doubt I 
shall have to build a place for my hawks ; but I suppose 
Sir John will find me a cottage for my Dutch falconer.” 

Lord, how the young master do talk!” exclaimed 
Eeuben, with an admiring grin. 

The boy was so rapid in his speech, had such vivacity 
and courage in his face, such a spring in every movement, 
as if he had quicksilver in his veins, Eeuben thought ; but 
it was only the quicksilver of youth, that divine ichor 
which lasts for so short a season. 


490 When The World Was Younger. 

It made me feel twenty years younger only to hear 
him prattle,” Reuben said afterwards. 

Sir John and his daughter had come to meet the chil- 
dren by this time, and there were fond embracings, in the 
midst of which Henriette withdrew herself from her grand- 
father's arms and retired a couple of paces, in order to 
drop him the Jenning’s courtsey, sinking almost to the 
ground, and then rising from billows of silk, like Venus 
from the sea, and handing him a letter, with a circular 
sweep of her arm, learnt in London from her Parisian 
dancing mistress, an apprentice of St. Andrews, not from 
the shabby little French cut-caper from Oxford. 

My father sends you this letter, sir.” 

Is your father at Chilton ? ” 

No, sir. He was with us the day before yesterday to 
bid us good-bye before he started upon his foreign em- 
bassy,” replied Henriette, struggling with her tears, lest 
she should seem a child and not the woman of fashion she 
aspired to be. He left us early in the afternoon to ride 
back to London, and he takes barge this afternoon to 
Gravesend, to embark for Archangel, on his way to Mos- 
cow. I doubt you know he is to be his Majesty^s ambassa- 
dor at Muscovy.” 

^^I know nothing but what you told me Pother day, 
Henriette,” the knight answered, as they went to the house, 
where George began to run about on an exploration of cor- 
ridors, and then escaped to the stables, while Henriette 
stood in front of the great wood fire, and warmed her 
hands in a stately manner. 

Angela had found no words of welcome for her niece yet. 
She only hugged and kissed her, and now occupied herself 
unfastening the child’s hood and cloak. 

"" How your hands shake, auntie ! You must be colder 
than I am ; though that leathern coach lets in the wind 
like .a sieve, I suppose my people will know where to 


Bringers Of Sunshine. 491 

dispose themselves ? " she added, resuming her grand 
air. 

‘^Reuben will take care of them, dearest.” 

Why, your voice shakes like your hands ; and, oh, how 
white you are. But you are glad to see us, I hope ? ” 

Gladder than I can say, Henriette.” 

I am glad you don^t call me Papillon. I have left off 
that ridiculous name, which I ought never to have per- 
mitted.” 

I doubt, mistress, you who know so much, know what 
is in this letter,” said Sir John, staring atFareham^’s super- 
scription as if he had come suddenly upon an adder. 

Nay, sir, I only know that my father was shut in his 
library for a long time writing, and was as white as my 
aunt is now when he brought it to me. ^ You and George, 
and your gouvernante and servants, are to go to the Manor 
Moat the day after to-morrow,^ he said, ^ and you are to 
give this letter into your grandfathers hand.^ I have 
done my duty, and await your honoris pleasure. Our 
gouvernante is not the Frenchwoman. Father dismissed 
her for neglecting my education, and walking out after 
dark with Daniel Lettsome. It is only Priscilla, who is 
something between a servant and a friend, and who does 
everything I tell her.” 

A pretty gouvernante.” 

Nay, sir, she is as plain as a pikestaff ; that is one of 
her merits. Mademoiselle thought herself pretty, and 
angled for a rich husband. Please be so good as to 
read your letter, grandfather, for I believe it is about 
us.” 

Sir John broke the seal, and began to read the letter with 
a frowning brow, which lightened as he read. Angela 
stood with her niece clasped in her arms, and watched her 
father’s countenance across the silky brown head that 
nestled against her bosom. 


492 


When The World Was Younger. 


Sir. 

“Were it not in the interest of others who must 
needs hold a place in your affection, second only to that 
they have in my heart, I should scarce presume to address 
you ; but it is to the grandfather of my children I write 
rather than to the gentleman whom I have so deeply of- 
fended. I look back, sir, and repent the violence of that 
unliappy night ; but know no change in the melancholy 
passion that impelled me to crime. It would have been 
better for me had I been the worst rake-hell at Whitehall, 
than to have held myself aloof from the modish vices of 
my day, only to concentrate all my desires and affections, 
there, where it was most sinful to place them. 

Enough, sir. Did I stand alone, I should have found 
an easy solution of all my difficulties, and you, and the 
lady my madness has so insulted, would have been rid for 
ever of the despicable wretch who now addresses you. 

I had to remember the dear innocents who bring you 
this letter, and it was of them I thought when I humbled 
myself to turn courtier in order to obtain the post of 
ambassador to Muscovy — in which savage place I shall 
be so remote from all who ever knew me in this country, 
that I shall be as good as dead ; and you would have as 
much compunction in withholding your love and protection 
from my boy and girl as if they were de facto orphans. I 
send them to you, sir, unheralded. I fling them into the 
bosom of your love. They are rich, and the allowance that 
will be paid you for them will cover, I doubt, all outlays on 
their behalf, or can be increased at your pleasure. My 
lawyers, whom you know, will be at your service for all 
communications ; and wdll spare you the pain of corre- 
spondence with me. 

I leave the nurture, education, and happiness of these, 
my only son and daughter, solely in your care and authority. 
They have been reared in overmuch luxury, and have been 


Bringers Of Sunshine. 493 

spoiled by injudicious indulgence. But their faults are 
small faults, and are all on the surface. They are truth- 
ful, and have warm and generous hearts. I shall deem it 
a further favor if you allow their nurse, or nurse-gouver- 
nante, Mrs. Priscilla Baker, to remain with them, as 
your servant, and subject to your authority. Their horses, 
ponies, hawks, and hounds, carriages, etc., must be accom- 
modated or not at your pleasure. My girl is greatly taken 
up with the Arab horse I gave her on her last birthday, 
and I should be glad if your stable could shelter him. I 
subscribe myself, perhaps for the last time, sir. 

Your obedient servant, and a penitent sinner, 

Fakeham.” 

When he had come to the end of the letter, reading 
slowly and thoughtfully. Sir John handed it to his daughter, 
in a dead silence. 

She tried to read ; but at sight of the beloved writing a 
rush of tears blinded her, and she gave the letter back to 
her father. 

^‘1 cannot read it, sir,^^ she sobbed ; ^^tell me only, are 
we to keep the children ? 

Yes. Henceforward they are our children ; and it 
will be the business of our lives to make them happy."" 

^ ' If you cry, tante, I shall think you are vexed that we 
have come to plague you,"" said Henriette, with a pretty 
womanly air. "" I am very sorry for his poor lordship, for 
he also cried when he kissed us ; but he will have skating 
and sledging in Muscovy, and he will shoot bears ; so he 
will be very happy."" 


494 


When The World Was Younger. 


CHAPTEE XXVII. 

m A DEAD CALM. 

The great bales and chests and leather trunks, on the 
filling whereof Sir J ohn^’s household had bestowed a Weeks’s 
labor, were all unpacked and cleared out of the hall, to 
make room for a wagon load of packages from Chilton 
Abbey, which preliminary wagon was followed day after 
day by other conveyance^ laden with other possessions of 
the Honorable Henriette, or the Honorable George. The 
young lady^s virginals, her guitar, her embroidery frames, 
her books, her babies,” which the maids had packed, 
although it was long since she had played with them ; 
the young gentleman^s guns and whips, tennis rackets, 
bows and arrows, and a mass of heterogeneous goods ; 
there seemed no end to the two children's personal property, 
and it was well that the old house was sufficiently spacious 
to afford a wing for their occupation. They brought their 
gouvernante, and a valet and maid, the falconer, and three 
grooms, for whom lodgings had to be found out-of-doors. 
The valet and waiting-woman spent some days in distribut- 
ing and arranging all that mass of belongings ; but at the 
end of their labor the children's room looked more cheer- 
ful than their luxurious quarters at Chilton, and the 
children themselves were delighted with their new home. 

We are lodged ever so much better here than at the 
Abbey,” George told his grandfather, we were so far 
away from father and mother, and the house was under 
a curse, being stolen from the Church in King Henryks 


In A Dead Calm. 


495 

reign. Once, when I had a fever, an old gray monk came 
and sat at the foot of the bed, between the curtains, and 
wouldn^’t go away. He sat there always, till I began to 
get well again. Father said there was nothing there, and 
it was only the fever made me see him; but I know it 
was the ghost of one of the monks who were flung out 
to starve when the Abbey was seized by CromwelFs men. 
Not Oliver Cromwell, grandfather ; but another bad 
man of the name, who had his head cut off after- 
wards ; though I doubt he deserved the axe less than the 
Brewer. 

There was no more talk of Montpelier or of exile. A 
new life began in the old house in the valley, with new 
pleasures, new motives, new duties — a life in which the 
children were paramount. These two eager young minds 
ruled at the Manor Moat. For them the fish-pond teemed 
with carp and tench, for them hawks flew, and hounds ran, 
and horses and ponies were moving from morning till 
twilight ; for them Sir John grew young again, and hunted 
fox and hare, and rode with the hawks with all the perti- 
nacity of youth, for whom there is no such word as enough. 
For them the happy grandfather lived in his boots from 
October to March, and the adoring aunt spent industrious 
hours in the fabrication of flies for trout, after the recipes 
in Mr. Walton^s agreeable book. The whole establishment 
was ordered for their comfort and pleasure ; but their 
education and improvement were also considered in every- 
thing. A Eoman Catholic gentleman, from St. Omer, 
was engaged as George^s tutor, and to teach Angela and 
Henriette Latin and Italian, studies in which the niece 
was stimulated to industry by her desire to surpass her 
aunt, an ambition which her volatile spirits never allowed 
her to realize. 

For all other learning and accomplishments Angela was 
her only teacher, and as the girl grew to womanhood aunt 


4g6 When The World Was Younger. 

and niece read and studied together — like sisters, rather 
than like pupil and mistress ; and Angela taught Henriette 
to love those hooks which Fareham had given her, and so 
in a manner the intellect of the banished father influenced 
the growing mind of the child. Together, and of one 
opinion in all things, aunt and niece visited and ministered 
to the neighboring poor, or entertained their genteel 
neighbors in a style at once friendly and elegant. No 
existence could have been calmer or happier, to one who 
was content to renounce all passionate hopes and desires, 
all the romantic aspirations of youth ; and Angela had 
resigned herself to such renunciation when she rose from 
her sick-bed, after the tragedy at Chilton. Here was the 
calm of the convent without its restrictions and limitations, 
the 23eace which is not of this world, and yet liberty to 
enjoy all that is fairest and noblest in this world ; for had 
not Sir John pledged himself to take his daughter and 
niece and nephew for the grand tour through France and 
Italy, soon after Georges’s seventeenth birthday ? Father 
Andrea, who was of Florentine birth, would go with them ; 
and with such acicisbeo, they would see and understand all 
the treasures of the past and the present, antique and 
modern art. 

Lord Fareham was still in the north of Europe ; but, 
after three years in Kussia, had been transferred from Mos- 
cow to Copenhagen, where he was in high favor with the 
King of Denmark. Denzil Warner had lately married a 
young lady of fortune, the only child and heiress of a Wilt- 
shire gentleman, who had made a considerable figure in 
Parliament under the Protector, but was now retired from 
public aflairs. 

And all that remained to Angela of her story of impas- 
sioned love, sole evidence of the homage that had been 
offered to her beauty or her youth, was a letter, now long 
grown dim with tears, which Henriette had given to her on 


In A Dead Calm. 


497 

the first night the children spent under their grandfather^s 
roof. 

I was to hand you this when no one was by/^ the girl 
said simply, and left her aunt standing mute and pale with 
a sealed letter in her hand. 

How shall I thank or praise you for the sacrifice your 
love made for one so unworthy — a sacrifice that cut me to 
the heart ? Alas, my beloved, it would have been better for 
both of us hadst thou given me thyself rather than so 
empty a gift as thy good name. I hoped to tell you lip to 
lip, in one last meeting, all my gratitude and all my hope- 
less love ; but though I have watched and hung about your 
gardens and meadows day after day, you have been too jeal- 
ously guarded, or have kept too close, and only with my 
pen can I bid you an eternal farewell. 

I go out of your life forever, since I am leaving for a 
distant country with the fixed intention never to return to 
England. I bequeath you my children, as if I left you a 
rag of my own lacerated heart. 

If you ever think of me, I pray you to consider the 
story of my life as that of an invincible passion, wicked 
and desperate, if you will, but constant as life and death. 
You were, and are, and will be, to my latest breath, my 
only love. 

Perhaps you will think sometimes, as I shall think 
always, that we might have lived innocently and happily in 
Hew England, forgetting and forgotten by the rabble we 
left behind us, having shaken ofi the slough of an unhappy 
life, beginning the world again, under new names, in a new 
climate and country. It was a guilty dream to entertain, 
perhaps ; but I shall dream it often enough in a strange 
land, among strange faces and strange manners — shall 
dream of you on my death-bed, and open dying eyes to see 
you standing by my bedside, looking down at me with that 

32 


4gS When The World Was Younger. 

sweetly sorrowful look I remember best of all the varying 
expressions in the face I worship. 

Farewell forever. 

if F/' 


While her son and daughter were growing up at the Manor 
Moat, Lady Fareham sparkled at the French court, one of 
the most brilliant figures in that brilliant world, a frequent 
guest at the Louvre and Palais Eoyal, and the brand-new 
palace of Versailles, where the largest court that had ever 
collected round a throne was accommodated in a building of 
Palladian richness in ornament and detail, a palace whose 
offices were spacious enough for two thousand servants. 
No foreigner at the great king^s court was more admired 
than the lovely Lady Fareham, whose separation from her 
black-browed husband occasioned no scandal in a society 
where the husband of beautiful women were for the most 
part gentlemen who pursued their own vulgar amours 
abroad, and allowed a wide liberty to the Venus at home ; 
nor was Henri de MalforPs constant attendance upon her 
ladyship a cause of evil-speaking, since there was scarce a 
woman of consequence who had not her cavalier servente. 

Madame de Sevigne, in one of those budgets of Parisian 
scandal with which she cheered a kinsmaffis banishment, 
assured Bussy de Rabutin that Lady Fareham had paid her 
friends^ debts more than once since her return to France ; 
but constancy such as De MalforPs could hardly be expected 
were not the golden fetters of love riveted by the harder 
metal of interest. Their alliance was looked on with favor 
by all that brilliant world, and even tolerated by that se- 
vere moralist, the Due de Montausier, who had been lately 
rewarded for his wife's civility to Mademoiselle de la Val- 
liere, now duchess and reigning favorite, by being made 
guardian of the infant dauphin. Everyone approved, every- 
one admired ; and Hyacinth^s life in the land she loved 


In A Dead Calm. 


499 

was like a long summer day. But darkness came upon 
that day as suddenly as the darkness of the tropics. She 
rose one morning, light-hearted and happy, to pursue the 
careless round of pleasure. She lay down in a darkened 
chamber, never again to mix in that splendid crowd. 

Betwixt moon and twilight Henri de Malfort had fallen 
in a combat of eight, a combat so savage as to recall that 
fatal fight of five against five during the Fronde, in which 
Nemours had fallen, shot through the heart by Beaufort. 

The light words of a fool in a tavern, backed by three 
other fools, had led to this encounter, in which De Malfort 
had been the challenger. He and one of his friends died 
on the ground, and three on the other side were mortally 
wounded. It would henceforth be fully understood that 
Lady Fareham^s name was not for ribald jesters ; but the 
man Lady Fareham loved was dead, and her life of pleasure 
had ended with a pistol ball from an unerring hand. To 
her it seemed the hand of Fate. She scarcely thought of 
the man who had killed him. 

As her life had been brilliant and conspicuous, so her 
retirement from the world was not without eclat. Eoyalty 
witnessed the solemn office of the Church which trans- 
formed Hyacinth, Lady Fareham, into M^re Agnes, of the 
Seven Wounds ; and a king^s mistress, beautiful and adored, 
thought of a day when she too might creep to this asylum 
in sorrow and deep humility, seeking refuge from a royal 
loveFs inconstancy and the world's neglect. 


THE EHD. 


pATALOGUE : OF ; CLOTH 
AND : PAPER ; BOOKS 

Published by 

R. F. FENNO 
& COMPANY 



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1897 



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For paper books see following pages. 


t2fnOy clothe $1.25 Paper 50 

THE KING’S ASSEGAI 

A MATABILI STORY 


By BERTRAM MITFORD 


AU^XAOi.'^ OP 


“THli WKIT^ SHIKI^D,” “ THB SIGN OI'' THE 
SPIDER,” ETC., ETC. 

With Illustrations by STaneEY E. Wood. 

“We can cordially recommend this book to all who care 
for stories of battle, murder, and sudden death. Mr. Mitford, 
who has already made his mark, handles these South African 

subjects with a masterful hand The account of the 

attack by Zulus on the Basutu kraals is a splendid bit of 

writing There is no question as to the interest of the 

story or the ability with which it is written .-’ — Vanity Fair. 

“ Mr. Mitford is known to us already by at least one capital 
story of South African adventure. ‘ The King’s Assegai’ is 
an admirable example of the tale in which the courage, 
cruelty, and superstitions of a savage race replace the tamer 

features of an ordinary novel No lover of stories of 

this order should leave ‘ The King’s Assegai’ unread.’’— 
speaker, 

“ The author has a captivating knack of writing of ad- 
ventures; his latest volume should prove especially popular 
with boy readers.’’ — Publishers' Circular, 

“ Full of exciting adventure .’’ — Morning Post. 

“ Mr. Mitford has already won distinction as a writer of 
Zulu stories, and *^The King’s Assegai’ is more than likely 
toajd ^ a laurels .’’ — Literary IVorlt 


* 


Nbw R. F. FEJ^NO & C01«rPAinr 














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